Heartstrings
by JaimiPenney
Summary: Hermione knew that she was in trouble. She knew that Ron loved her as much as she loved him and that was something she never had wanted to happen.
1. Heartstrings

Hey I took Heartstrings off, because I redid it a bit. Re-read and enjoy!  
  
Ron Weasley hated thinking about the future. To him it meant that he would have to live up to all the expectations that had been placed on his shoulders the moment he was born. His parents wished for him to be just like all five of his older brothers. They wanted him to get a good job, like Bill who was in Egypt cracking curses for Gringotts Wizard Bank. They wanted him to make a difference in the world like Charlie, who worked taming dangerous dragons all over the world. Arthur and Molly Weasley wanted their youngest son to be clever and responsible like Percy had been before he'd disowned his family. They wanted him to show initiative and be brilliant like his favorite twin brothers, Fred and George, who owned their own business. Sure Ron had become a prefect the year before, something that neither Fred or George had done, but that was nothing compared to two Head Boys and a Quidditch Captain in the family. Ron was sick of standing in the shadows of the people around him. Even when he tried to get away from it at school, with his friends, it never happened. He was, after all, best friends with Harry Potter who was born famous. It wasn't always fame that had followed Harry; especially in the last two years, with the Daily Prophet writing horrible lies and misgivings about him. And yet where ever Harry was, attention followed, good or not. His other best friend was Hermione Granger, who was the smartest witch in their year, a favorite to all teachers and the girlfriend of a very famous quidditch player named Viktor Krum. He remained a poor and dirty Weasley.  
  
It wasn't solely his stubborn personality that made him not want to think of the future. Ron knew that if he was going to concentrate on his future at all, he would have to let go of his present day self, and forget his past. Those were some things that Ron would have trouble doing. Letting go and forgetting about things weren't exactly Ron's strong points, especially when he didn't want to. There were a lot of things that littered his past and haunted him presently. Even though it had been nearly three weeks since Sirius Black's funeral, Ron still hadn't been able to get his pale dead face out of his dreams. Ron thought about Sirius constantly. He knew Harry was having a hard time as well, his letters since the start of summer had been so half-heartily written, and very vague. Ron, who was still communicating with Hermione, knew that she too was bothered. He'd invited her to come stay at the Burrow, since the Weasley's had refrained from returning to 12 Grimauld place without Sirius. She'd consented to come for the last month of summer holidays, and would be there in less than a week. He couldn't wait for her to come, he'd missed having a friend around the house, and Ginny, his sister, was becoming boring to talk to. All he and Ginny did was bicker, much to the annoyance of Mrs. Weasley. With Hermione here, there wouldn't be any more bickering. Ron paused, and thought about that. He and Hermione had bickering since the day they had met on the Hogwarts Express, off and on. They would argue over the smallest things, such as pets, teachers and more lately Viktor Krum. It'd taken him nearly 3 years to figure out why, but he finally had, down in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic where his father worked.  
  
Ron's thoughts were interrupted by several small explosions that made the floor and his bed shake. They came from the room directly bellow Ron's. He had thought he'd be the only one up this early, but small explosions coming from Fred and George's room (who still lived at home) at any hour weren't uncommon. They were always working on new experiments for their shop Weasley Wizard Wheezes. As the sun began to rise, and shine golden rays into his room lighting up the many posters of his favorite Quidditch team (the Chudley Cannons) that covered the shabby wall of his room, Ron turned over with a sigh. He closed his eyes, thinking back to the terrible time he'd spent at the Ministry not to long ago.  
  
"Ron, come on!" Ginny yelled.  
  
He was sitting on the floor still recovering from the spell that had just knocked him off his feet. Luna Lovegood, a 4th year Ravenclaw girl, had finished off the Death-Eater after he'd shot his spell at Ron. She was now standing against a large desk panting. Ron watched her curious blue eyes dance over the many models of planets that littered the top.  
  
"We need to find Harry, Neville and Hermione!" Luna cried shrilly returning her attention to her friends.  
  
Ginny limped over to her brother; her ankle had been injured in her violent escape from another Death-Eater, who was now slumped against a desk. She tried to pick him up, but Ron was no help, something odd was taking place in his body. He watched her face go pale against her red hair that all the Weasley children had inherited from their parents. She fell to the floor with a gasp of pain clutching at her ankle. Luna ran to her aid, and helped Ginny to her feet,  
  
"I think we need to go through that door over there," she said pointing, and reaching down for Ron's robes.  
  
Ron opened his mouth to protest as she lifted him to his feet; nothing came out but laughter. It was an uncontrollable laughter that giggled and chuckled its way out of Ron's throat. Ginny threw him a furious glare,  
  
"How can you find anything funny right now Ron?" she spat, before wincing in pain, "Please enlighten us."  
  
Ron shook his head, and began to tell her that he couldn't control what was happening, that it must be the spell he was hit with, but what came out was something totally different.  
  
"Ginny!" he cried, with a fit of giggles, "You're ankle is all big and puffy!"  
  
"Ha-ha!" she cried angrily.  
  
Luna's face lit up as she stared at Ron in question,  
  
"You know Ginny, I think Ron's been hit with a Giggle Hex,"  
  
Ginny threw her a look that said, 'Yea Right-It's-Just-My-Brother-Being-A- Jerk' but Ron nodded ferociously and Ginny gave him a reproachful look.  
  
"Right then," she nodded, and Ron knew she understood, "Let's find a way out of here,"  
  
Together Luna, Ginny, and Ron managed to find a door, which seemed to not want to open. They all clutched at the door-knob, pulling and pushing, throwing their body weight at it. Ginny gasped, as she heard more Death- Eater's approaching,  
  
"Hurry!" she cried out, as Ron's laughter filled the room.  
  
Luna reached around in her robes, muttering to herself, looking up with big eyes. Relief passed over her face in a few seconds as she pulled out her wand.  
  
"Alohamora!" she cried, and the door burst open from Ron and Ginny's weight and the three off them toppled onto the floor.  
  
Ron looked up to see Harry dash towards them.  
  
"Harry," he cried, lunging forward and grabbing the front of Harry's robes.  
  
He wanted to ask what was going on, if they had killed, or knocked out all the Death-Eaters but,  
  
"There you are," his eyes became unfocused, "Ha, ha....you look funny, Harry....you're all messed up!"  
  
Ron felt his stomach lurch, and fell to his knees still holding onto Harry's robes. Whatever that Death-Eater had done to him, it was horrible. Liquid filled his mouth and Ron felt it trickling out the side. Harry threw a nervous glace towards Ginny, who was slouched against the wall, still holding her ankle. Ron didn't hear what they said to each other, because his body began to shake once more, and he continued to laugh. He wanted to ask Harry about Neville and Hermione. He needed to know if they were okay,  
  
"Harry," Ron said pulling Harry's ear down to his lips, "You know who this girl is Harry? She's Loony...Loony Lovegood...hahaha!"  
  
Harry grabbed Ron, who was still laughing and carried him awkwardly towards the door, but Death-Eaters broke all around them. Ron felt himself being thrown from Harry threw the threshold, and laughed as he hit the ground hard. Soon they were all in the room, and Ron's eyes rested on a tank full of objects that looked like brains. Was he going insane? He could hear the Death-Eater's scream in frustration as Harry slammed the door in their faces, but Ron knew they were coming. As the Death-Eaters made their way into the room, Ron laughed as he continued to stare at the brains. Luna Lovegood flew past him, and fell over a desk, but Ron only laughed harder.  
  
"Hey!" he called out as he pulled himself to his feet.  
  
Walking was a difficult task for Ron, but he staggered towards Harry anyways, he needed to know about the brains,  
  
"Hey, Harry, there are brains in here...ha ha ha isn't that weird Harry?"  
  
Ron pointed his wand at the tank; he needed to feel one, needed to understand what it was. He found his wand,  
  
"Honest, Harry, they're brains, look, Accio brain!"  
  
The brain popped out of the tank, and came flying at him, unraveling as it flew through the air towards his outstretched hand.  
  
"Ha ha ha, Harry look at it, "Ron laughed, "Harry come and touch it, bet it's weird."  
  
Ron didn't hear Harry protest, but caught the brain easily in his hand. Tentacles began attaching themselves around Ron's body and he giggled uncontrollably.  
  
"Harry look what's happen – No, no, no I don't like it – Stop!"  
  
The feelers began wrapping themselves around Ron's body, squeezing his arms against his ribs. As the ropes piled and piled around him, Ron knew he was going to suffocate. Knew he was going to die. He sank to the floor, the feelers still slithering about him, he closed his eyes.  
  
When Ron opened his eyes again, he was lying face down on the cold stone floor. His body ached all over as Ron tried to push himself off the floor.  
  
"Easy now," a familiar voice muttered, helping Ron turn onto his back.  
  
Ron blinked a few times before he realized he was staring at Remus Lupin, his old Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.  
  
"Sir?" Ron questioned, feeling a large headache coming on.  
  
"You are fine Ron, you got hit with a giggle hex, and got a little preoccupied with some creature that the Ministry is working with. You nearly suffocated, but luckily I got to you on time." Lupin told him with a serious face.  
  
Ron winced as blinding lights flashed from other rooms, and yells and screams echoed from the dark corridor.  
  
"It will be okay Ron," Lupin said noticing the worried look on Ron's face, "Dumbledore and the Order are here," Ron looked up at him hopefully, "Hermione, Neville, Luna and Ginny are all behind you. Unfortunately you are the only one who is conscious. I need to know, did Harry give the Death- Eater's the prophecy?" Lupin asked.  
  
"I c-can't remember," Ron whispered.  
  
Lupin nodded, patting Ron's shoulder,  
  
"Now that you're okay, I've got to go help the others, I'm going to lock you all in this room, and if the others become conscious just explain to him it's all alright, okay Ron, if anything goes wrong, try to find one of the members of the Order,"  
  
With that Lupin was gone. Ron pulled himself into a sitting position. He looked wearily at Neville, who was twitching, but unconsciously sprawled across the floor. Luna's face had been covered with blood, but her chest was rising and falling. Ginny was quite pale and Ron's heart beat quickened as he crawled over to her, groping for her wrist to feel for a pulse. Once he'd found it, he threw himself against the wall with a sigh of relief, but his eyes sprung open when he thought of Hermione. He searched the room for her, and finally found her lying perfectly still in the darkest corner. Her shallow breaths were shaky and irregular.  
  
"Hermione," Ron whispered, as he came closer, sinking to the floor to sit by her.  
  
What had happened to her? He glanced over her body, his eyes rested on a huge slash across her chest, her robes soaked up with blood. He gasped, and drew back with surprise. She was seriously injured. She looked worse off than any of the others. Was it fatal? He stared at the deep cut, oozing with blood nervously. He'd never seen Madame Pompfrey fix anything this bad before. His heart lunged. He suddenly felt the familiar feelings of when he'd last saw Hermione, pale, cold and unconscious. It had been in his second year when she'd been petrified by the Basalisk. They'd only known each other for two years then, but now he and Hermione had been through much more together. She was his best friend. He felt sorry for all the times he'd yelled at her when her cat, Crookshanks had gone after his pet rat (who was really an evil wizard named Peter Pettigrew) in the third year. He felt his heart twist horribly as he remembered the constant bickering they'd had in their fourth year over Viktor Krum. The worst of these fights had taken place on the night of the Yule Ball. After the dance was over, after Ron had glared at Viktor Krum holding onto his best friend in inappropriate ways, Hermione and he had had the worst fight ever. Viktor Krum had still be a soft spot with Ron this year. He and Hermione had been forced to spend more time with each other because Harry was distant and they were both prefects. He thought back on all the countless and endless fights they'd had with each other and he wondered why. Why had there always been such a tension between them? He stared at Hermione's mangled body, her beautiful frozen face, and her long brown hair, that lay fanned out below her. Why had it taken Ron so long to realize how beautiful she was? Why was he only appreciating her friendship now that she lay here on the floor, inches away from death? He closed his eyes as they filled with tears. Something was happening inside Ron's heart, a realization was coming over him. The sudden jealousy he'd felt for Viktor, the constant bickering, the insensitive comments, they'd all happened for this reason. And as Ron kneeled beside Hermione, tears falling down his cheeks, making wet spots appear all over her dark robes he realized he'd been in love with Hermione since the third year. He seized a handful of her robes, and as she lay motionless underneath him he cried into them, begging, pleading and praying that she would still be alive. He promised himself, as he swallowed a deep sob that rested in his throat, that if the two of them made it out of this, some day he would tell her how he felt.  
  
As Ron lay on his bed, remembering the promise he'd made to himself, he realized that day had never come. She had survived that night alright. Madame Pompfrey had fixed her up. Ron had stayed with her, during the long weeks she spent in the hospital wing, but still that day had never come. Even as she pulled hard on the strings of his heart, Ron knew that Hermione was in love with someone else. Ron knew she'd never love him, she'd never feel the same way as he did when they were together. Hermione was with Viktor Krum and he was everything that Ron wasn't. Ron didn't blame Hermione for not wanting to be with him, he was poor, lonely, pathetic red haired Ron Weasley. He was amazed she was friends with him. For now that was enough. 


	2. Hermione's Troubles

Hermione Granger ran down a dark hall. The stonewalls were dripping with a dark substance that Hermione was afraid to touch. The wand Hermione held high above her provided little light and was no help. She winced and ducked as a few bats flew past her screeching.  
  
"Harry?" she called.  
  
She continued walking slowly, fear resting in her chest. The only sound was the slight pitter-patter of her feet against the damp floor, and her ragged breathing. Something crunched beneath her feet. She stooped to see what it was, and gasped when she saw the remnants of a magic wand, much like her own. Harry's wand. She picked up the pieced carefully as if they represented a broken Harry. She slipped them delicately into the pocket of her long robes. She paused as a high pitched cackle echoed through the empty tunnel.  
  
"Ron?" she yelled into the darkness that lay ahead of her.  
  
A dark voice whispered many things that echoed and bounced off the walls, audible only as gibberish. Hermione glanced all around, twisting her long thin body, trying recklessly to find where the sound was coming from. Hermione felt her heart beating in her head as she broke out into a run through the eerie corridor.  
  
"Harry, Ron?" she yelled, coming to a bend in the tunnel, "Where are you?"  
  
The high-pitched cackle filled her mind and Hermione clutched at her ears, closing her eyes in pain. She stumbled around the corner paralysed by the sound. The sight that awaited her was mortifying. Harry, her best friend, was lying on the floor, his head propped up against the wall, his black hair messily arranged, his hands clutched into fists at his side.  
  
"Harry?" she gasped running towards him, her fear gone and only the obsession of making sure he was okay left in her mind.  
  
His cold green eyes stared up at her and her breath caught in her throat.  
  
"Oh Harry," she whispered, tears falling down her face as she touched his colourless, frigid cheek.  
  
"You're dead," she sobbed.  
  
She stood up shivering as an unusual coldness swept around her.  
  
"Why?" she screamed at the evil cackle she knew was coming from the shadows.  
  
Only her voice echoing distantly answered back.  
  
An exasperated moan pulled Hermione's eyes further down the corridor. Even in the dim light she couldn't miss the bright red hair and husky physique of Ron Weasley. She climbed over Harry. Ron was still alive. She scrambled down the tunnel so fast she tripped over her own feet and fell against the oozing wall. She let out a scream of frustration.  
  
"Ron!" she cried out pulling her self from the wall and falling beside him.  
  
She felt her heart clench as she stared down at Ron lying in a mangled position. Her throat tightened over a sob as she watched dark blood trickle out of his mouth and down his pale chin. She watched him move slowly, so slow it seemed he was mechanical. He reached up, pressing his cold hand against her face, caressing her cheek softly with his thumb.  
  
"Her – mi – one," he coughed.  
  
"Ron!" Hermione sobbed, placing one of her own hands over his, pressing his hand hard against her cheek.  
  
She let the coldness of him sink into her skin,  
  
"You're alive."  
  
Ron shook his head placidly, his deep brown eye clouding over,  
  
"Tell mum," he winced in pain, "tell mum I love her,"  
  
"Ron," Hermione smiled through her tears, "You can tell her yourself, you're going to get out of here, I know you! You'll be fine!" she whispered running her one hand through his silky red hair, the other still pushing against his on her cheek.  
  
His thumb stopped caressing her cheek, his eyes began to droop, and his breathing became ragged.  
  
"Ron!" she pleaded.  
  
"I love you," he whispered, "I love you..."  
  
And then with a weak smile, his face slumped to one side, and his chest stalled.  
  
"NOO!" Hermione screamed sitting up in her bed.  
  
She pushed a lock of her brown hair away from her sweaty face, and wrung her white blanket between her hands. The dream had seemed so real, so vivid. Her two best friends had died and left her alone. She shivered despite the warm late July breeze that was blowing in from her open window. She speculated that her mother probably came in earlier that morning and opened it, to air out Hermione's room. Hermione groaned and fell back down into the comfort of her pillows. Her parents were always thinking of her welfare, and although she knew she was luckier then some, like Harry, they got really annoying. She closed her eyes, counting, ticking the seconds off her fingers, waiting for someone, her mother or father, to come bursting into her bedroom, toothbrush still in their mouth, making sure that she was okay. Three..two..one...  
  
"Hermione!" he father cried, bursting into her room, a towel still wrapped around his head.  
  
"You're mother and I were just getting read for work when we heard you scream, is everything okay?"  
  
He didn't wait for a response, but rushed over and sat on her bed. He reached down feeling her head.  
  
"You're all sweaty, are you okay? We could stay home? Call a doctor?" he suggested frantically.  
  
"I am fine Daddy," she muttered, rolling her eyes, "Just another dream."  
  
"You've been having so many nightmares lately Hermione, is there something bothering you? Something you're not telling us?" he asked looking very serious despite the towel,  
  
"You know you can always talk to your mother or myself, even though we aren't like you, we will still understand."  
  
"Daddy, I am fine, honestly, don't worry, everyone I know has been having nightmares lately, even Harry!" Hermione insisted, rolling onto her side.  
  
Her parents usually took things better when she mentioned Harry. They had met him briefly in Diagon Ally more than once, and liked him very well.  
  
"Well then," her father smiled, patting her hair, "If you are sure,"  
  
"I am," she answered.  
  
Her father seemed satisfied as he stood up and kissed his daughter's head.  
  
"Well if you have any problems, you know there is that list of numbers where you can reach us, and Mrs. Lawson next door is always available in emergencies."  
  
"Dad!" Hermione cried.  
  
"See you when I get home Princess," he smiled before leaving.  
  
Hermione hated the fact that her parents seemed to think that she was incapable of anything. Even though she was nearly sixteen they still thought of her as a small child, stepping out to face the trails of the world around her, not knowing how to handle sticky situations. If only they knew all the things she'd done. Of course they knew about her excellent grades, and outstanding exam marks, but they had not clue of thing that she'd done with Harry and Ron. They didn't know she'd been feet away from the Dark Lord (whom they knew nothing about) more than once. They didn't know she'd helped a convicted murderer escape from the Ministry of Magic, or that she'd travelled in time more times than they could say toothpaste in two minutes.  
  
Her parents didn't know about Sirius Black, or the Order of the Phoenix either. They also didn't know that she'd been trying to deal with Sirius's death by herself for the past month. However, they did notice that ever since she'd come home for the holidays, she'd spent more hours in her room than ever before. They noticed she was quieter and thinner and that she'd been having regular nightmares that left her sweaty and screaming in her bed. It was true, since Sirius's death, Hermione had been left stranded, trying to deal with his death. She'd been having dreams about everyone close to her dying since. Dumbledore had forbid her from telling her parents anything that had happened, fearing that they would panic for their daughter's and their world's safety.  
  
Hermione knew he was right, but still she didn't want to talk to Harry about it in letters, it was way too impersonal and he was already having enough trouble dealing with it on his own. Her feelings were way too complicated to write to Ginny or Ron, and so Hermione was left confiding in Viktor Krum. Her parents of course, had no clue about him either, because if they did she knew they wouldn't approve of her seeing a boy so much older than she. Yet Viktor had been there throughout the last month, countless times lending a shoulder for her to cry on and tender lips to kiss away her tears. Hermione had secretly had her house hooked up to the Floo Network, and when her parents had gone away one weekend in early July for a dental conference, she'd invited Viktor over. Once he'd been in her bedroom, he'd been able to aparate there. So now they had secret meetings in her house very late, or very early, depending on how you looked at it. Just thinking about Viktor made Hermione's heart leap. He'd written to her everyday to make sure she was okay, and to keep her posted on his whereabouts. She'd just written him last night to inform him that she would be spending the rest of her holidays at the Burrow.  
  
She was glad she was going there; she needed a break from the muggle world. She needed to be able to talk to other witches and wizards, her own age and older, and especially those who'd been there when she'd fond out that Sirius had died. She needed to talk to Ron. He'd been with her throughout the whole ordeal. When she'd finally became conscious after the deep cut that had wounded her had knocked her out, she'd realized that Ron was sitting there beside her, his head resting wearily on the side of her bed, his hand wrapped tightly around hers. It was Ron who'd sat there with her through the long hours of her hospital stay, reading to her from her favourite books and for once helping her with her homework. She felt something odd when she was around him. She knew that he knew she wasn't all books and cleverness and that there was more to her than the extensive knowledge she possessed. He was one of the very few who'd actually realized that, even if it had taken him quite a long time. Sure they always bickered, and he was rude and insensitive sometimes, but it was times when she needed him the most that Ron really shined through. Ron had done double duty while they'd been back at Hogwarts after the incident at the Department of Mysteries.  
  
Ron had been there for both Harry and Hermione, helping them through the ordeal. She'd never even though about whether or not he was okay with Sirius dying and everything that had happened. She'd never thought to ask. She'd been so insensitive. Not that Ron had a clear record, but she knew he had his heart in the right place. She sighted, as she pulled herself out of bed, now fully awake. She'd be leaving for the Burrow in a fortnight, and was quite excited to see the whole Weasley family, or at least whoever was at home. 


	3. The Burrow

When Ron woke up on the first of August, he had long since forgotten the thoughts of Hermione that had plagued him a week ago. Today was the day Fred, George and Ginny had promised him to help train for quiddtich. He'd only been out on his broom a few times; when he'd needed to escape Mrs. Weasley's angry yells this summer. After eating a quick breakfast with their parents, the Weasley children (those still living at home) dashed out to the field that lay out of sight, behind a thick hedge of trees to play quiddtich. They mounted their brooms happily and kicked off from the ground.  
  
"George," Ron called as the wind blew around him, "I forgot to ask, how did you and Fred get away from the shop?"  
  
"Left our apprentice in charge," Fred answered grinning evilly at his twin, who flew along side him.  
  
"Reckon he's going to have one HELL of a day," George boasted with a wink.  
  
"What about Lee?" Ron asked as he watched Ginny land from her warm up lap and pick up a few balls they used as quaffles.  
  
"Who do you think our apprentice is?" Fred asked, bewildered.  
  
"Lee Jordan?" Ron stammered, "Lee Jordan is your apprentice?"  
  
George nodded with a grin,  
  
"He's our best friend isn't he? Blimey Ron I thought Prefects were supposed to be smart?"  
  
"I thought he'd already know how to do...whatever it is you two do," Ron yelled as Fred and George dove and spiralled around each other.  
  
"We were being honest when we said we would be dishonest to everyone about what we were honestly doing!" Fred cried.  
  
Ron paused, pulling his broom to a halt as he thought about what Fred had just said,  
  
"I just figured that ruled out Lee."  
  
Fred and George shook their head together.  
  
"Hey guys," Ginny called rising fast on her Nimbus broom to meet them, "How about we actually play a game?"  
  
She tossed a fake Quaffle to each of her twin brothers with skill.  
  
"Get in front of the hoops Ron!" she cried.  
  
Ron flew away towards the odd shaped hoops that Mr. Weasley had made out of some muggle material.  
  
"Ready Ron?" Ginny cried tossing her quaffle up and catching it impatiently.  
  
"Of course," he replied.  
  
"Don't worry Ron, we won't throw too many at once," Fred promised, grinning lopsidedly at George.  
  
Ron watched as George reached into his pocket producing a wand. He didn't have time to watch what his brother's were doing because a red quaffle, thrown by Ginny, was flying right for him. He barely moved in time to save it.  
  
"I think your going to have to be a little bit quicker than that!" said Fred who was now holding several quaffles.  
  
"Hermione are you sure you packed all of your Hogwart's things?" Hermione's mother asked nervously.  
  
"Yes, I have everything I will be needing," Hermione answered.  
  
She was standing at her front door, waiting for her parents to leave for work. They insisted on asking many questions before they left.  
  
"And you are sure Mr. And Mrs. Weasley actually know how to use a telephone now?" her father asked, exchanging a look with Mrs. Granger.  
  
Hermione knew that the Weasley's had promised they would call last summer, to inform the Grangers that Hermione was indeed okay, but the long list of phone, fax and cell phone numbers her father had given them, had confused Arthur Weasley so that he was dialing a continuous stream of numbers, even after her father had picked up. Her father had been left on his end yelling into the receiver trying to tell Mr. Weasley he could stop dialing numbers. Hermione supposed that Mr. Weasley couldn't hear her father very well, because he also thought it was necessary to yell into the phone.  
  
"I am sure they have figured it out by now," Hermione sighed, "And plus they have a few owls and I am sure Ron wouldn't mind me borrowing his now and then."  
  
"So we will see you at Christmas?" Hermione's mother choked.  
  
"Oh mom, it's the same every year. I will be fine. I am more than capable of taking care of myself. Have I ever let you down before?"  
  
"No dear, it's just..." her mother paused, "We love you."  
  
"I love you to," Hermione whispered.  
  
"How are you getting to the Weasley's?" her father asked, placing a comforting arm around his sad wife.  
  
"I am sure you remember the Floo Network. I used it last year to go there. Well Mr. Weasley had it hooked up to our house again," Hermione explained watching her foot tap with a lack of patience.  
  
She glanced back up and noticed her parent's horrified expression,  
  
"It's only temporary!"  
  
"Are you talking about that thing with the fireplace?" her mother cried, "Oh Hermione, I am not sure I liked that, wasn't exactly safe was it? The green flames were terrifying!"  
  
"Mum, every wizard and witch uses it," she chuckled, thinking about how her parents were going to react when she told them about aparation.  
  
"Well," her mother hesitated, "Alright."  
  
Mr. Granger glanced at his watch and looked hastily at his wife.  
  
"Dear, we really must be going, our first appointment is at 1:15. It's little Billy Morgans, you know,"  
  
"Oh that boy with the grotesque cavity on 9-16?" Mrs. Granger asked.  
  
Hermione let out a groan. What a surprise that her parents were talking about work -again.  
  
"Well Hermione," her father said reaching into his pocket, pulling out his wallet, "Here is some spending money for the year."  
  
He pulled out two one-hundred pound notes and placed them in her hand,  
  
"Make sure you buy yourself something too, not just supplies."  
  
He bowed down to kiss her forehead and patted her back,  
  
"I will see you soon, make sure you call or write,"  
  
"Goodbye my darling Hermione," her mother cried helplessly flinging her arms around her daughter.  
  
"Goodbye mother," Hermione replied kissing her mothers warm cheek, "I'll be seeing you soon."  
  
"Have a good year," she called as Mr. Granger pushed her out the door, "And mind you stay good friends with that Harry boy."  
  
Hermione nodded, and forced a smile in her mother's direction before shutting the door behind her parents with relief.  
  
She glanced at the clock. She'd told Ron she'd arrive around one, and since it was nearly that time she raced upstairs to change into some robes. As she was frantically changing, she thought about finally seeing Ron after the long month she'd spent away from her. Her stomach leaped excitedly. She smiled softly and lugged her trunk (which was full of her Hogwarts things) down the heavy wooden stairs to her living room. She looked at the fireplace that was surrounded by many shelves filled with odd dentistry objects and awards. She reached up onto the highest shelf and pulled down a pot that was in the shape of a gigantic molar. She removed the lid and reached in grabbing a handful of white Floo Powder. She replaced the lid and put the pot back on the shelf being careful not to spill any on her mother's new pearly white rug. After throwing her trunk into the fire place she stepped inside cast the powder down and cried,  
  
"The Burrow!"  
  
She let the green flames sizzle around her and closed her eyes as she whirled in circles clutching desperately onto her trunk.  
  
When she finally stopped moving, and the flame died down, she was standing in the Weasley's living room. She stepped out of the fireplace sneezing softly from the soot. She reached for the small robe duster Mrs. Weasley had placed beside the fireplace and watched as it magically dusted the soot from her robes, tickling her slightly. She smiled and pulled her trunk out from the ashes of the fireplace. She was finally home. Hermione could smell Mrs. Weasley's delicious cooking, and realized it must be a late lunch. She walked carefully out into the living room, grinning at the knitting needles as they knit hastily producing a multicolored sock. The matching sock lay just inches away on the round oak table. Battered armchairs were snoring peacefully in the corners of the room and books, which lay on the cherry bookshelf fought over the wonderfully carved bookends.  
  
Hermione looked up at the familiar family portrait that hung level on the crooked wall. Her light brown eyes fell on Mr. Weasley, tall and balding, standing proudly behind Mrs. Weasley who was a short, plump red haired woman. She was smiling despite the ruckus her twin sons were creating. Fred and George, who were standing shoulder to shoulder to the left of their parents, were changing their little sister, Ginny's flaming hair to random colours and laughing hysterically. Bill and Charlie Weasley, were standing together on the right. Bill stood as handsome as ever, sporting his long hair and earring proudly, his arm around Charlie's broad shoulder. Charlie was shorter and had a full but charming face. Finally Hermione's anxious eyes traveled down the painting to Ron's messy red hair, deep brown eyes, small dimples and obnoxious grin. She grinned back at his picture. She paused, remembering that there were seven Weasley children.  
  
Her eyes narrowed darkly. Percy was of course no long in this portrait. He'd run out of it when he'd left home the year before. Hermione wondered if Percy would ever come back, after he'd disowned his parents for siding with Dumbledore. Percy, like his father, worked for the Ministry of Magic, which ran under the control of Cornelius Fudge. It was widely known that Dumbledore was the smartest and wisest wizard around, but Fudge and Dumbledore had come to a disagreement. Fudge refused to believe that Voldemort had returned to power, and Percy was disgusted that his family would believe Dumbledore over the Minister. Mr. And Mrs. Weasley, however, had been right in the end, but Percy still hadn't come home.  
  
"Ginny dear is that you?" Mrs. Weasley called, coming into the living room, "I do hope you remembered to take off your muddy shoes –"  
  
"Hello Mrs. Weasley!" Hermione cried.  
  
"Hermione!" Mrs. Weasley smiled graciously, "How have you been?"  
  
"Fine thanks," Hermione felt heat coming to her cheeks, though she didn't know why.  
  
"Well of course you're fine!" Mrs. Weasley replied, "Would you like a spot of tea?"  
  
"No thanks, I just had some before I left home," Hermione answered.  
  
"How did you get here?" Mrs. Weasley asked, looking suspicious.  
  
"Um, well my parents had our house hooked up to the Floo Network so that Viktor – my friend could come visit, so I just used it,"  
  
"Ahh, yes Krum," Mrs. Weasley said softly looking away from Hermione, and through the windows towards the tree hedge.  
  
"I daresay, I've heard enough about him from Ron to last me a lifetime," Mrs. Weasley let out a sigh, "The children are out play quidditch, but I am sure they will be coming in soon for a bite to eat. Lord knows they've been out there for hours."  
  
"Is it okay if I bring my trunk up to Ginny's room?" Hermione questioned.  
  
"Of course dear, go unpack, I'll send Pig out for the children."  
  
Hermione grabbed her trunk and began to lug it up the spindly stairwell, which led to the Weasley's bedroom. Ginny being the youngest had had her room built last, and so it was at the very top of the house, right under the attic that was haunted by a very loud ghoul. To Hermione, the sound of him banging the pipes in a Peeves the Poltergiest way was relaxing. She passed Mr. And Mrs. Weasley's room, then Bill and Charlie's room's passed. A large brass P hung on a wooden door, which was Percy's room. Fred and George's room did have an F and G, but they were hanging crookedly, and there were several locks on the door. A piece of parchment had been spell-o-tapped to the door and read,  
  
"Experiment under way, enter at own risk!"  
  
Ron's room, which she'd been in a few times before, had a large orange R hanging on the door. Finally she came to Ginny's small room. She entered, and saw that a spare bed had been made on the floor. Ginny had also cleared out a few or her drawers for Hermione to put her clothes in. Hermione smiled at Ginny's consideration and unpacked her trunk. In no time she heard loud wallops from the kitchen that was now many feet below her. The Weasley children had come inside. Hermione burst out of Ginny's room and ran down the stairs quickly. Pausing as she got to the end.  
  
"Is she here?" She heard Ron's deep voice inquire.  
  
"Yes dear she is," Mrs. Weasley said between a few clunks of china, "She's upstairs unpacking in Ginny's room."  
  
Fred and George began to laugh, and Ron groaned. Hermione hopped down the last few stairs and then ran into the kitchen.  
  
"Fred!" she cried, and then spying the canary cream he was holding in his had, narrowed her eyes,  
  
"If you don't hand that over, I am afraid I'll have to take points for Gryffindor."  
  
"Hermione," George cried awkwardly, forcing a smile, "What a pleasant surprise."  
  
He hastily shoved a fist full of toffees into his pocket, and looked around innocently.  
  
She surprised both of the boys, by laughing merrily and throwing her arms around them, pulling them into a tight hug.  
  
"I want to order of few of those," she whispered, pulling away and laughing at their puzzled look.  
  
"Are you feeling okay?" Fred asked suspiciously.  
  
"Never been better!" she cried, her light eyes laughing juviantly as she spotted Ginny.  
  
"Hermione!" Ginny shrieked scrambling across the kitchen towards Hermione, "Oh it's so wonderful to see you. I have so much to tell you about...about...  
  
she paused turning crimson.  
  
Hermione, who knew she was referring to her sixth year boyfriend Dean Thomas, eyed Ginny suspiciously.  
  
"We can talk later," she told Ginny giving her a piercing look.  
  
"It's good to see you Hermione," Ron said quietly sitting down at the table watching his mother prepare lunch.  
  
Hermione looked at him a bit disappointed. His brothers and sister had greeted her with more enthusiasm than he, and he was her best friend.  
  
"I'm rather glad to be here to, the muggles were getting a bit annoying," she smiled sitting down across from him.  
  
He didn't look up at her.  
  
They ate a small lunch. Rom remained silent, stuffing his mouth with the good food. Fred and George gave Hermione an update on their shop. She nodded, pretending to be interesting, but her thoughts traveled to Ron, who even when eating was rarely silent. She jabbed Ginny in the ribs.  
  
"What's wrong with him?" she whispered, gesturing towards Ron who was running his hands through his hair and chewing slowly.  
  
"Maybe he is upset because Fred and George got so many quaffles past him. He wasn't doing bad, he did keep out loads, especially compared to how many quaffles they had," she whispered back.  
  
Hermione frowned.  
  
When lunch was over, and they'd put their dishes by the sink, Hermione placed her hand on Ron's broad shoulder.  
  
"I think we should take a walk, maybe go sit out by the creek?" she whispered in his ear.  
  
He whirled around and stared into her eyes. Something about the way he was looking at her made her feel as if she were naked. He seemed to drink her in, his eyes wide. She backed away feeling that distance was the only thing that could make her feel comfortable.  
  
"Yea sure," he said, looked dazed, "The creek."  
  
Ron held the back door open for Hermione, and as the two made their way to the back of the Weasley property he remained silent. Hermione glanced at him curiously. What was keeping him so silent? Her thoughts soon shifted as she spotted the creek through the meadow of long grass. She ran towards it, calling for Ron. Once she made her way there, she pushed her self up onto a large boulder that had placed itself right beside the babbling creek. She felt the warmth from the rough surface on her legs, she listened to the calming sound of the water, and the birds chirping in the small willow trees that grew along the edge of the creek. It was beautiful. She'd longed to visit this beautiful haven all summer. It was only a few moments until Ron joined her. He had grown so tall that he didn't have far to push to get himself onto the rock. They sat in mutual silence for a moment, drinking in the wonderful august day.  
  
Hermione took a deep breath,  
  
"You know Ron, I never really asked you, but are you okay?"  
  
"Of course I'm okay," he replied quickly.  
  
Something about the distant tone in his voice alerted Hermione that something was really wrong.  
  
"Ron?" she whispered looking at him.  
  
He'd pulled his knees up to his chest and had his arms wrapped protectively around his legs.  
  
"I never thought, that day when I met Harry on the train, that being his friend would become such a hard thing, I never thought You-Know-Who would come back, and I never thought that somebody I knew would die,"  
  
"I never thought so either, when I barged in on you two stuffing your face with candy," Hermione smiled, "I was such a know-it-all bossy little girl back then,"  
  
"Back then?" Ron asked, smiling for the first time, "You're still a bossy know-it-all!"  
  
"That know-it-all saved your neck a few fair times Ronald!" Hermione laughed.  
  
Ron smiled and leaned back.  
  
"Oh come on," Hermione grinned, "You know I am brilliant,"  
  
A shadow seemed to fall over his face.  
  
"If you were brilliant you wouldn't be friends with such gits like Harry and I."  
  
"You guys aren't gits, I used to think so, but then..." she drifted as she caught herself getting lost inside his brown eyes.  
  
"Then?" he prompted.  
  
She broke her stare, looking down quickly.  
  
"But then I got to know you, too well for my own good, and you are both excellent wizards, and friends," Hermione finished.  
  
"Nah, the amazing wizard trick goes to Harry. I mean down in the Department of Mysteries, I was just a git who was laughing his head off."  
  
"You can't help the fact that you'd been hit by a spell Ron," Hermione cried, "And plus, being a great wizard doesn't always consist of how well you can defend yourself, or your friends. You stayed with Harry and I, helping us through the whole thing when Siri..." she paused looking away.  
  
"I know what you're trying to say Hermione," Ron whispered, shifting uncomfortably.  
  
She closed her eyes begging herself not to start crying. She listened as Ron drew a deep breath.  
  
"How've you really been Hermione?" he asked, "Forget all the 'Oh I'm fine's"  
  
"I've been..." she stalled thinking of the right word, "horrible."  
  
"Me too," Ron agreed, "I keep thinking about what I saw, that day down there; After Lupin had revived me and I saw Neville, Luna and Ginny all hurt. I mean I thought my heart was going to tear in half when I saw Ginny, bloodied and unconscious but..." he paused.  
  
"But what?" she asked turning to face him.  
  
She watched the gentle breeze blow through his light red hair, his eyes were filled with shadows and fear. It was as if she could see him replaying the scene inside of his head. He shuddered.  
  
"Hermione, when I saw you lying on the ground with that gouge, I...I thought you were dead."  
  
Hermione let out a gasp. Ron dropped his amber eyes blinking rapidly. After several moments of silence, Hermione reached out and touched his knee.  
  
"I keep having dreams about you and Harry dying," she whispered.  
  
A sob filled her throat as she thought about Harry slumped against the oozing wall and Ron dying on the floor.  
  
"Hermione," Ron was at a loss for words.  
  
"I can't stop thinking about Siri-"she gasped as a sob fought to escape her throat, "about Sirius, the way he looked at...the funeral...his eyes..."  
  
Ron stared at her,  
  
"I know he was Harry's Godfather, but...but Hermione...I loved him to,"  
  
Suddenly Hermione flung herself at Ron, clinging to him needing to feel him beside her. Ron was different then Viktor, he'd been there, seen what she'd seen. Hermione sat there for a long time, pouring her anguish out onto Ron's shoulder. He had been stunned and tense at first, but as her tears began to hit his shoulder he moved his hands to her back and rested his chin on the top of her head.  
  
"Hermione he croaked, and she pulled away realizing he had been crying to.  
  
"Ron..." she whispered her eyes large and fearful, "How many more of us are going to die at the hands of Lord Voldemort? How many more times are we going to have to sit here like this, mourning?"  
  
Ron placed his hands firmly on her shoulders and stared deeply into her eyes.  
  
"I won't let anything happen to you Hermione, I promise."  
  
Suddenly she felt something drawing her face towards his. She felt her heart leap a few beat as she was drawn towards him. He was staring into her eyes glancing at her lips. She breathed faster, her eyes closed. Seconds before their lips met, Hermione snapped her eyes open and turned her face quickly to the side and kissed his warm cheek.  
  
"Thank you Ron," she whispered, feeling warmth rise in her cheeks.  
  
She pulled away so suddenly that Ron jerked backwards.  
  
"Viktor wouldn't have understood as well as you," she muttered.  
  
Ron's eyes narrowed.  
  
"You're still talking to him?" he asked.  
  
"Of course I'm still talking to him," she cried, her embarrassment now forgotten, "He's my boyfriend."  
  
Ron looked infuriated.  
  
"Hermione how many times have I told you he's not worth your time?"  
  
"Too many to count, but you don't know him, he's not like anyone I know," she spat.  
  
"He may be bloody rich Hermione, but he's cheap."  
  
"You think you know everything!" she cried at Ron, feeling quick to anger.  
  
"Oh come on Hermione, don't tell me you read up on how to be Krum's girlfriend?" Ron yelled.  
  
"How would you know what it is like to be in a relationship, it took you four years to notice a girl when she was standing in front of you!"  
  
"I did notice other girls Hermione. How was I supposed to notice you when you've always got your nose stuck in a book!" Ron shot back.  
  
"Why are you saying this? I thought we're supposed to be friends?"  
  
"We are."  
  
"Then you should respect me and those I love," she cried.  
  
Ron paled,  
  
"You love him?" he asked barely above a whisper.  
  
"I think so," Hermione whispered back, looking away from his penetrating eyes.  
  
"Hermione," Ron said incredulously, "You're not old enough to know what love is,"  
  
"I am nearly sixteen," Hermione cried, "Why doesn't anybody realize that?"  
  
"Maybe you don't act as old as you are?" Ron shouted.  
  
"Oh and you're Mr. Maturity?" Hermione cried.  
  
"Oh go and complain to Vicky!" Ron said darkly.  
  
"Don't call him that, its Viktor," she cried.  
  
"Tell someone who cares," Ron cried angrily, "Have you started writing his name down with little hearts then?"  
  
"No!" she cried, "I'm not some little school girl Ron,"  
  
"Sure would have fooled me," Ron shot back, "I know all you girls think he's handsome, so maybe that it,"  
  
"Never," she cried aghast, "Viktor's got tons of –"  
  
"Money?" Ron cut her off, "So that's it you're a gold digger,"  
  
"Don't blame me just because you're jealous,"  
  
Ron froze like a dear in headlights,  
  
"Jealous of what Hermione?"  
  
She hesitated, not sure if she should say what she really thought.  
  
She fumbled,  
  
"Jealous...because...because he can actually afford new things, unlike you!"  
  
As soon as it came out of her mouth, Hermione wished she'd never said it. Ron stared at her, his brown eyes turning cold.  
  
"Ron I didn't mea-"  
  
But he didn't stay to listen. He jumped down from the rock and disappeared into the meadow.  
  
Hermione was left there gapping at him, and herself. She couldn't believe what she'd just said to him. They'd been having the perfect conversation, finally talking to one another, actually communication, opening up... She'd told him so much, and yet in seconds it had fell to the ground ending in a bitter fight over Viktor Krum – again. Why? Well it was his fault anyways, that she'd said those mean things, if he wasn't such a jealous prat...Hermione let out a sigh. 


	4. The Losing Battle

'Hiya Harry,  
  
I know it hasn't been long since I wrote last but there's not much to do here anymore. Hope the muggles are treating you right. Hermione arrived here about two weeks ago, but we got in a bit of a row her first night here. She hasn't spoken with me since. I know I took a bit of my anger and emotion out on her, but really? I've tried to apologize, but she just won't hear it. I hate women. She and Ginny have kept to their bedroom, making things here quite dull. (By the way, I saw Ginny writing a letter to you? What was that about?)  
  
Harry you've got to get here, I've been begging with Mum, and she reckons you'll be here soon enough. What's that supposed to mean? Can't you write to Dumbledore and ask him or something? Because, Harry, I really can't stay here by myself.  
  
Just the other night I was out for a walk so I could think over...things, and I spy Hermione through the tree hedge. She was out on the quidditch pitch, on a broom! Hermione on a broom, snogging, with...with that jerk, Viktor Krum! Do you remember him? She's seeing him, reckons they're 'in love'. Well I told her she's off her rocker. I suppose she's been having secret meeting with him in my backyard for quite some time now. Who does she think she is? Doesn't she realize he's scum? I don't know if you read Witch Broomstick or not, but he's always in there, they say he has many different girlfriends!  
  
You better get here soon mate, I don't reckon I can make it through the last two weeks before Hogwarts alone, and I'm sure that being alone with those nasty muggles isn't helping you out either. I just hope you know that Sirius...is bugging all of us as much as you. Well Pig is getting anxious so I better end here.  
  
Hope to see you soon,  
  
Ron  
  
P.S I hope Pig doesn't annoy you and Hedwig too much!'  
  
Harry Potter let out a sigh releasing the parchment from his firm grip. He watched the yellowish paper float to the ground. It was just like Hermione and Ron to get in a fight so soon. They were always bickering. Harry just hoped they hurried up at figured it out so he wouldn't have to endure their yelling matches this year at Hogwarts. He missed his friends a lot and couldn't wait to get out the hellhole that he had to call home every summer.  
  
Harry was forced to live with his aunt and uncle (his only living relatives) every summer, but Harry knew where his real home was, and it was as far away from the Dursley's as possible. He was sick of the silence that haunted him in this house. Since Dementors had attacked Harry's cousin Dudley at the end of last summer, the Dursley's weren't too happy to have Harry back. They blamed the attack on him. They had hoped that Harry would have died during the school year so that he wouldn't have returned, but unfortunately it hadn't been Harry who'd died.  
  
'Don't think about it,' he told himself, letting his eyes wonder over his messy room, looking for something to distract him.  
  
The only time his room wasn't silent was when Harry was remembering how Sirius had died a few months ago. Almost immediately Harry's mind filled, with his own voice crying out for Sirius, as he fell beyond the veil, his back arched, his deep dark eyes as cold as the stone floor. Harry shuddered as he saw clearly in his mind, the image of Sirius dead.  
  
Harry let himself fall back onto his bed. As he lay there staring up at the ceiling, he felt the familiar weight of guilt settle on him. If only Harry hadn't been so stupid, if only he'd realized that it had been a trick. If Harry hadn't fallen for the hero's act, or practiced Occulmency like Hermione had begged him to, Harry would still be receiving letters from his faithful godfather. Harry wouldn't be at the Dursley's. Harry would be living with the closest thing to a father he had ever had. Harry ran his fingers up his warm face, and grabbed a fist full of his messy dark hair.  
  
Albus Dumbledore (the Headmaster of Hogwarts) should have taught him Occulmency. That was the problem. Dumbledore was the reason that Harry was stuck here, with muggles, who hated him. Dumbledore was the reason that Harry was separated from his friends and the closest thing to a family he owned. Dumbledore was supposed to be the best wizard in the world, but he had failed; something Harry never though he'd do. Dumbledore hadn't saved Sirius from dying. Dumbledore hadn't told Harry everything he needed to know until it was too late. Harry stopped himself. Dumbledore was a good man. He'd protected Harry since he was one year old, since Harry's parents had died. Since Lord Voldemort, the darkest wizard in a century had murdered his parents.  
  
Harry opened his eyes, which he'd realized were clamped shut. Sweat had dampened his face. Harry pulled himself to his feet, wanting to stop thinking about this. It was an endless cycle that left Harry drained. Harry walked towards his most prized possession, his racing broom, the Firebolt. Sirius had bought it for Harry for Christmas two years ago, and just holding it was something of a release to him. It calmed him; because touching the Firebolt made Harry reminisce the feeling of soaring through the air out on the quidditch pitch where he belonged. Before he reached the shelf, on which it was lying, he paused in front of a floor length mirror.  
  
Harry stared at himself, his tall skinny body still shaking at the memory of Sirius's pale face, his untidy black hair lying flat against his forehead, and yet the scar, his curse still showed. Harry reached up slowly, and began running his fingers over the red skin that had formed a lightning bolt shaped scar on Harry's forehead. It had been with him almost his whole life. It had been with him, plagued him. Many sought him out just to stare at it. The scar of course was legendary. Harry had received it the night the Voldemort had killed his mother and father, and then turned his wand on Harry. Nobody knew why, but Voldemort's spell rebounded off of the baby and hit him instead, and now Harry was cursed with Voldemort's presence. He was the only known survivor of the Killing Curse, and the one who relinquished an evildoer, and for this Harry was famous. Many had loved him until Voldemort had come back into power, and all of his servants had flocked back to him. Harry was haunted by Voldemort's malicious servants, which littered the world. It was Voldemort who had kick started Harry's miserable existence, as a child with no parents.  
  
Harry had been haunted for to long by his mother's screams, but now they were replaced. Her blood curling screams had been replaced with Harry's own cries for Sirius. Voldemort again had been the reason, that Harry had lost everything once more. As he stared at himself in the mirror, a hate, far stronger than any hate he'd ever felt before rose in the pit of his stomach. He felt his hands clench at his sides as he stared at himself. His knuckles turned white rapidly, his breathing becoming ragged. If Voldemort hadn't chosen Harry, his parents, and Sirius would all still be alive, and suddenly Harry heard a new voice inside his head.  
  
"We'll take the cup together!" Cedric Diggory insisted.  
  
Harry's insides curled; two deaths, two murders, at the hands of Lord Voldemort, all for Harry. Harry was responsible. Cedric's mangled body at the graveyard clashed with Sirius's at the Department of Mysteries. It was his fault they were dead.  
  
Suddenly Harry was staring right into Voldemort's beady cruel black eyes. He saw Voldemort in himself; his eyes reflected Harry's. Harry Potter was a murderer, or he was intended to be. One day Harry knew he would have to stoop as low as Voldemort, become just as hateful. It was Voldemort's fault he saw the Dark Lord inside himself. It was Voldemort's fault that there was nobody around for Harry, Voldemort's fault that a large amount of guilt, grief and responsibility had been draped over Harry's shoulders like a cloak. It was Voldemort's fault that it was smothering him.  
  
Harry reached behind him, clutching the first thing he could find on the crowded desk in his clammy hand. With tears smarting in his eyes, Harry lunged his broom servicing kit as hard as he could at the mirror. It shattered into a billion pieces with a loud crash. Harry sank to the floor. All the pain and evil in the world, it all revolved around him and now the only person who had ever understood him was dead, and it was his fault. He was already responsible for two deaths. How many more would there be? How many innocent lives were sufficient enough, until Dumbledore gave up his fight against Voldemort, until Voldemort would win and murder Harry? It was a hopeless battle that he didn't want to fight. Much of him wished he had perished with is parents nearly fifteen years ago. If one more person he cared for died at the hands of the Dark Lord because of Harry, he knew that he was willing to give it all up, and just let Voldemort kill him. The lives of those he cared for and the innocent just weren't worth it. He knew he was the key to Voldemort's demise, but Dumbledore wasn't the best wizard in the world for nothing. Dumbledore was a smart man, he'd figure some other way out.  
  
Harry looked up at the sound of heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. He realized Uncle Vernon must have heard the crash of the mirror but he didn't care. There was so much clouding his mind, that the pain Vernon Dursley thought he was licensed to dish out to Harry, would not be felt. He let his head fall back heavily on his desk. A leather bound book fell from the cluttered space and landed face down the floor. Harry picked it up gingerly and turned it over to see his parents at their wedding, and their best man, his godfather laughing in the background.  
  
It was then that a sob rose in Harry throat and even though Uncle Vernon was making a fast approach at his door, Harry wasn't worried about his pride any longer; all he wanted was to be someone else. He was Harry Potter, son of murdered parents, cursed by the darkest lord that was ever known and he was alone. He longed to have somebody who would care about him, and understand him like Sirius, but that could never happen. Harry couldn't care about anyone, those he cared for always wound up dead. Harry winced as his uncle, who had successfully unlocked all 12 locks on Harry's door, entered his room.  
  
'Bet they wish they could see famous Harry Potter now,' he thought as tears fell down his face.  
  
Hermione sat cross-legged on her shabby mattress, gazing up at Ginny with amusement playing across her pretty facial features.  
  
"So then Dean hands me all these flowers, and oh 'Mione, I thought I was about to burst!" Ginny gushed.  
  
They'd been talking about their boyfriends for quite some time, Hermione and Ginny. Dean Thomas seemed to really care for the pretty redhead.  
  
"So how's Ron taking it?" Hermione asked, picking at her fingernails.  
  
"Well, you know Ron," Ginny sighed, "To protective and jealous for his own good!"  
  
"Yea, I know only too well," Hermione groaned, "Your brother is a bit touchy when it comes to Viktor,"  
  
"Viktor?" Ginny questioned, but after a few moments of silence comprehension lit her face, "Is that why you two aren't talking?"  
  
Hermione nodded sullenly.  
  
"Oh, 'Mione," Ginny sympathized, "Another row about him? Wow that's got to be a record, honestly. And Viktor used to be one of his favorite quidditch players. You don't think..." She paused glancing around her for any signs of Fred and George's extendable ears, "You don't think there could be other...motives behind that do you?"  
  
"Other motives?" Hermione laughed, "Ginny, your brother is just an idiot, who gets stupid over a lot of things, especially when he believes he's right!"  
  
"Well surely Hermione, you've noticed," Ginny insisted, "I mean he isn't exactly subtle is he?"  
  
"Subtle?" Hermione asked.  
  
"You're supposed to be clever!" Ginny protested, "What are you playing at? You must have noticed, everyone else has!"  
  
"Ginny, lets not beat around the bush, just tell me what it is you are talking about!"  
  
"Well everyone, has noticed – er – it seems like it anyways – don't get to riled up, I mean I'm not sure if its true..."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Well Ron, he's always jealous of Viktor, and well, I – Hermione, I think Ron likes you," Ginny breathed.  
  
Hermione felt her stomach clench. Butterflies suddenly fluttered, around every inch of her body. Ron like her? As more than a friend? Ha, Ginny must be out of her mind. It was getting pretty late. Ron couldn't like her – like that - could he? Hermione drew in a deep breath.  
  
"Of course he likes me Ginny, we are best friends," she said calmly.  
  
"What about romantically?" Ginny asked, blushing slightly.  
  
Hermione felt her mind go berserk. What was going on? The sudden jealously, the petty fights all flashed through her mind.  
  
"Ginny, there's no way he feels – that way about me, I mean gosh, me and him can't even be in the same room for five minutes before we start arguing, and we have nothing in common, plus," she added bitterly, "He doesn't look at bookworms,"  
  
She felt her heart beating in her ears. Why was she getting all sweaty? She rubbed her clammy palms on her pajama pants as Ginny bit her lip nervously. Ginny was just guessing anyway. Maybe she was trying to hard at being matchmaker.  
  
"Hermione," Ginny began cautiously, "Can I ask you a question?"  
  
Hermione looked up at her with large brown eyes. She regulated her breathing and stroked back her hair repeatedly attempting to distract herself from the wild emotions chasing themselves around her body. She pursed her lips,  
  
"Sure,"  
  
"Do you – Well Hermione, do you like my brother?" Ginny asked, pulling her head inwards, as if waiting for Hermione to reach out and hit her.  
  
"Of course not!" Hermione protested, "I have never, ever once even thought about Ron in that way,"  
  
Hermione racked her brain, thinking of several moments she'd been alone with Ron and gazed into his big brown eyes, or longed to stroke his red hair. That was normal though, wasn't it? I mean it was natural for any girl to be attracted to a boy. Her mind raced back to the moment when she'd kissed Ron's cheek. He'd been so pale and frigid that day before his first Quidditch match, it had only been for moral support...right? Plus she'd hugged and kissed Harry's cheek tons of times. It had all been on a very platonic level. Besides, she was with the most wonderful man.... a wonderful quidditch player...he was famous...what was his name? Hermione was horrified with herself. How could she forget his name?  
  
"Besides," Hermione continued indignantly holding her nose high, "I am with ...someone – already,"  
  
Ginny nodded, she seemed satisfied enough; Hermione however did not. After another moment of silence Ginny spoke.  
  
"Hermione, do you think you love Viktor?"  
  
That was his name!  
  
"I think, I think I might," Hermione whispered.  
  
Ginny grinned, lapping up that sappiness of Hermione's whisper. Ginny always fell for this sort of romance. That was probably why she'd had such a taking with Harry. He was the hero, so much like the knight, and Ginny longed to be his damsel-in-distress, and she'd almost gotten her wish when she'd been down in the Chamber of Secrets with Tom Riddle (A memory of Lord Voldemort at age 16 preserved in a diary). Harry was so passionate about everything he did, and yet so quick to jump the gun, that he fit into Ginny's fantasies very well and yet nothing had ever happened between them. Harry had never shown interest, but then again, he had a lot more on his mind to deal with then sappy teenage romances. She was with Dean Thomas now anyways.  
  
Hermione listened to the ruffle of Ginny's bedspread being shifted, as Ginny slid underneath, preparing to go to sleep. Hermione followed her, and soon the girls were tucked under their covers snugly, and both had their head position just right on their pillows.  
  
"Gin?" Hermione whispered.  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"Do you still think about Harry?"  
  
"Sometimes," Ginny answered honestly, "But I'm not sure why..."  
  
It was some time before either girl fell asleep, because both were thinking uneasily of two very special boys, neither of which were their boyfriends.  
  
"It's working," Lord Voldemort laughed merrily.  
  
"What is my Lord?" Fat, blonde, Peter Pettigrew asked, absent-mindedly stroking his silver hand.  
  
"The boy, he's thinking about Sirius Black, he's feeling guilty." Voldemort spat angrily at his thick servant.  
  
"What is your plan?" Peter squeaked under the gaze of Voldemort's malicious eyes.  
  
"My plan?" Voldemort wheezed, wrapping his dark robes more closely around his frail body, "Well, I've noticed how well Sirius's death is having effect on him."  
  
Peter forced a grin, something nearly impossible to do when you were sitting in front of an evilly corrupted man in a dark place, with no light but the calm flickering of fire.  
  
"So you are saying we kill more people?" Peter clapped his hand together.  
  
"We need to know what that prophecy said, Wormtail," Voldemort snarled, closing his gnawed fist tightly around his ebony wand, "And if Potter won't tell us, we'll make him!"  
  
Peter gulped at the sight of his master's wand,  
  
"Veritaserum?" Peter suggested.  
  
"If the boy is out of our clutches how do we give him Veritaserum?" Voldemort flared, wheeling on Peter, who had sunk into the shadows of the room.  
  
"Well then how do we get him to tell us?" Peter asked dumbly.  
  
"We make him feel guiltier," Voldemort, said slyly, "We make him suffer, until he wants to tell."  
  
"And how will we do that?"  
  
"We attack those who aren't as protected," Voldemort hissed, "We attack those we already despise, those already distanced from the wizarding world, those unworthy of magic knowledge, those close to Potter's heart."  
  
"The mudblood?" Peter asked, with large fearful eyes.  
  
"Precisely!" Voldemort cried, throwing his gaunt head back and laughing his hollow, horrible evil laugh. 


	5. The Hogwarts Express

The three sixth year Gryffindor students who were sitting together in a cozy train compartment remained silent. None of them uttered a word as the Hogwarts Express chugged by the barren landscape quickly. It was odd that they were silent, especially when each wanted to say so many things to each other. Harry Potter, for instance, was thinking about his many rides on this train. All of his rides had been memorable, why he'd even met Ron and Hermione in a compartment like this one. He'd met his parent's friend and favorite professor Remus Lupin here as well. Harry smiled fondly at the thought of Lupin, but after a moment his smile vanished. Lupin and Sirius had been James Potter's best mates, but Sirius was gone. Long minutes had passed since they'd left platform nine and three quarters, but while they'd been there Harry had stared out onto the platform thinking of Sirius. He'd smiled sadly as he looked towards the window almost hopefully, looking for the big black shaggy dog, who should be sitting on the concrete platform wagging his tail, and baring his enormous teeth in an unmistakable grin. But the only thing that had greeted Harry was the reflection of his sad green eyes against the glass.  
  
Harry longed to break the silence that had infested their normally cheerful compartment. They were going home to Hogwarts; they should be happy and bursting with the excitement of the New Year ahead of them. Normally they'd be talking about new classes, the dirty Slytherins, the foul Professor Snape and best of all Harry would be discussing Quidditch with Ron while Hermione read over their homework clucking disapprovingly over their numerous mistakes. Where were the smiles? The jokes? Harry opened his mouth to make conversation but paused when he noticed Ron concentrating very hard on his hands and Hermione throwing glares at Ron over a large brown book, which had the glittering title. 'A Book of Spells – Grade Six by Miranda Welkins'. Harry let out a deep sigh and looked towards the window at the passing landscape.  
  
He'd spent the last week of his holidays at the Burrow. He'd been extremely happy to go at first, but his mood changed when he had arrived. Ron was sour and Hermione bitter. Ginny, whom Harry had exchanged letters with through out the summer, had told him that neither had been speaking to the other, especially after they'd had another row. Hermione had apparently told on Ron for buying six boxes of Fred and Georges Skiving Snacks. Harry remembered how Ginny had tossed her long red hair behind her shoulder casually as she told him the tension between the two had raised sky high when they'd been in the kitchen one evening drinking cocoa together.  
  
Harry had tried to divide his time between them equally but not to long after he'd been there Hermione had told him off for 'siding' with Ron, in the matter of Viktor Krum, and Ron accused Harry of 'associating with the enemy'. He'd gotten sick of being in the middle of the raging war. Suddenly Harry had found himself with Ginny a lot of the time. They practiced Quidditch, which was relieving since Harry hadn't played for so long. They attempted to pull pranks on Fred and George, who were only home in the evenings. They succeeded only once. They had sat behind Harry's invisibility cloak together laughing silently as Fred and George both got their hands stuck on the front door knob, where Ginny had placed one few of the unstickable gumballs, which Fred and George had made themselves. Harry smiled fondly at the memory of Ginny's body so close to his, and the smell of her fruity hair.  
  
Harry, who'd only ever seen Ginny as Ron's little sister before, found himself considering her as a friend. He had been quite impressed with the fight she'd put up at the Department of Mysteries, and she'd proved to be amazing company, and have a sympathetic ear. It had seemed that in their anger, Hermione and Ron had forgot that Harry had lost Sirius, but Ginny had been there to listen whenever Harry'd needed to talk, even if it was late. Harry thought back on the long walks to the Weasley quidditch pitch that had taken place in the wee hours of the morning, where Harry and Ginny had shared with each other the grief they'd both been feeling through out the whole summer. She was easy to talk to, and suddenly Harry felt a great longing for her in the pit of his stomach. If she were here in this compartment, she'd be easing the silence with her bubbling laugh, and wide grin. She was probably off with Dean Thomas in some compartment having fun, while Harry had to sit here with these two. He stopped himself; Hermione and Ron were great friends - when they weren't jumping down each other's throats for the dumbest of reasons.  
  
Harry though better than to open conversation with the two sitting in front of him. To make things worse the night before Ron and Hermione had begun arguing about Viktor Krum. The topic this time was Hermione snogging with Viktor in the backyard. Harry and Ginny had been in the kitchen enjoying a game of Exploding Snap when a war erupted from the sitting room. The fight left them standing extremely close, Hermione rolled up on the balls of her feet attempting to rival Ron's height, and Ron throwing his chest out, his hands balled into tightly clenched fists. The fighting match lasted a mere fifteen minutes, but many hurtful words were exchanged, causing Hermione to burst into tears and dash up the rickety stairs of the Weasley household. Ron had stormed out the back door muttering angrily under his breath. Ginny and Harry were left gapping from the kitchen door. Ginny had glanced nervously up the stairs after Hermione,  
  
"No," Harry had whispered grabbing her small wrist, and touching her soft skin with his fingers, "Don't go up; let her cool down,"  
  
"You want me to stay?" she had said uneasily, looking up at her with her pale green eyes.  
  
"Well, there's no point in trying to talk to either of them, they're both riled up, and plus, I'd be bored with out you,"  
  
Ginny had smiled at him wistfully, and pulled walked over to a small cupboard. She knelt down, and pulled out a very old wizard chessboard.  
  
"Wanna play?" she grinned.  
  
And they had, late into the night; so late the Mrs. Weasley had scolded them to bed looking deviously between the two. The wrenching feeling of longing pulled at his stomach again, and Harry shifted uneasily on the padded bench.  
  
Hermione grimaced at Ron from behind her spell book as he picked at his long hands. His red hair was falling into his face hiding his deep brown eyes, and light freckles. Her eyes followed his defined cheekbone and rested on his pouting lips. She felt her face twist up in disgust as she watched him. She couldn't believe him, or what he'd said. He'd called her, a... It was awful; she closed her eyes at the horrible memory,  
  
"Like you could love Krum?!" he spat at her, his mouth curling into an ugly snarl.  
  
"And what if I do Ron?" she yelled back, rolling up on her toes.  
  
"Did you enjoy your snog-fest Hermione, I suppose he let you come up for air once in a while,"  
  
"What Viktor and I did in private has no concern with you," She growled.  
  
"My backyard isn't exactly private Hermione!" Ron challenged, breathing hard.  
  
"You shouldn't have been snooping," She cried, "Like it or not Ronald Weasley, Viktor is my boyfriend, and that's what you do in a relationship."  
  
"So I suppose fornicating in my backyard is okay because it was in the name of 'love'," Ron snapped in a sing-song voice, "Or maybe he was slipping you a few of those precious Galleons under your cloak."  
  
Hermione felt like she'd been slapped across the face.  
  
"Is that what you think of me?" she whispered, tears brewing in her eyes.  
  
"What was I thinking?" Ron cried, "Why don't you just go write to Viktor, and complain to him?"  
  
"I WILL!" she shouted, "I will go write to my BOYFRIEND!"  
  
"Better hope he's not to busy writing to one of his other bimbos!"  
  
"Other Bimbos?" Hermione cried, "I'm a bimbo?"  
  
"Yea Hermione, you can't think just you is good enough for the infamous Viktor Krum, the guy's got a girlfriend in practically every country."  
  
"Other Girlfriends?" She felt her heart plummet, "You are a liar Ron!"  
  
"Would I lie?"  
  
"Well Ron, so far you've called me a Bimbo, a tramp and said I'm not good enough for him! So I'm not sure what you're capable of!"  
  
"Viktor is no good for you Hermione"  
  
"And I suppose you are?" She spat, "Like you know how to treat a girl. Is it so hard to realize that somebody actually cares about me Ron? That I care about someone?"  
  
"Why would I care Hermione?"  
  
"I don't know, Why would you?"  
  
Ron paused, his breathing filling the silence between them. She watched his brown eyes rest on her own, and bore into them. She felt her own breath catch in her throat, as he continued to stand over her, breathing hard, the angry jealousy fading from his eyes. She watched them become soft and docile, and his posture weaken. She felt her heart begin to race, as she realized they were fighting for a stupid reason. She needed to apologize; he was after all only trying to protect him. He reached up slowly brushing his red hair out of his face, stepping away from her. He blinked slowly as she watched him contemplate something. He opened his mouth to respond, but shut it quickly, changing his mind and glancing at his wristwatch.  
  
"It is getting late Hermione; Krum will be here soon, you don't want to miss your weekly salary!" He whispered venomously and the anger flashed in his eyes again.  
  
Hermione stared at him, their bodies extremely close. Ron didn't break eye contact with her, as her lip began to tremble. This was really what he thought of her, some tramp that Viktor used once a week. She was more than that! If Ron couldn't see that, then he wasn't her friend. If Ron couldn't see that then she didn't...she paused as she felt a sob rise in her throat. Ron's image blurred as fresh tears filled her eyes.  
  
"Don't ever say that about me again,"  
  
With that she dashed up the stairs to the privacy of Ginny's room, hoping nobody would follow her.  
  
When she made it to the room she was sharing with Ginny, she shut the door hard, and stood against it, tears slipping down her face. She honestly couldn't believe him. Why was he so mean, why did he say the things he had? Like she would accept money for being his girlfriend! Like Viktor had other girlfriends! She let out a laugh, wiping her tears. Ron really was a git.  
  
A soft hoot filled her ears, and Hermione looked quickly towards the window. Her owl had returned, with a response from Viktor. She rushed to him, feeling happier already, but she paused half way to the window. There was no yellowish white amongst the grey-blue feathers of her owl. She reached quickly for the owl, but he didn't raise his leg. There was no parchment. No reply.  
  
Hermione blinked a few times returning to the jolting train compartment. Harry shifted on the bench beside her, and Ron continued to pick at his hands. He looked up suddenly catching her eye. She stared at him for a moment, getting lost in his innocent features. They were supposed to be best friends, and he'd said all those things, she couldn't forgive him. It had been his fault she'd been up all last night wondering why Viktor hadn't replied. It had only been one day, but he was usually very quick with replies. Maybe he was busy writing to someone else... She laughed at herself. She was getting all worked up over nothing. Ron couldn't be right...She was Viktor's one and only, wasn't she?  
  
Ron looked away from Hermione's long hair, and face that was beautiful despite the dark look. He moved back to his hands, which were read an irritated from him picking at them. But no matter how raw and painful his hands became, his thoughts lingered on Hermione. She thought he was just jealous, but there was more to it than that. He knew a bad apple when he saw one, and Viktor Krum was one. She wondered why he was angry with her, but since when did his backyard become the ideal place to make out?  
  
He looked angrily out the window, they were coming up to Hogwarts, and really should get changed into their robes, but he didn't move. Any kind of unsettlement would likely bring Hermione to a yelling rage again. She was constantly yelling at him to act more like a prefect should. Prefect this and prefect that. Why couldn't she be more like Harry and just not care so much? Harry broke the rules all the time, but he didn't get all bothered.  
  
Ron looked up at Harry, who was staring idly out the window. He felt bad for his best mate (well best now that Hermione was being insufferable). He'd lost so much in his life, and all he had left were Ron and Hermione...and Ginny, whom Harry had been spending a lot of time with. Ron felt a pang of guilt stab at him, as he realized he hadn't been there a lot for his best friend when he probably needed him the most. Ron slid down the bench a little so he was directly across from him.  
  
"Harry?" he asked tensely, glancing at Hermione hoping that she wasn't ready to pounce on him.  
  
Harry glanced up at him with weary green eyes.  
  
"Are you okay?" He asked softly, stilling watching Hermione out of the side of his eye.  
  
"I am fine," Harry sighed, "Why wouldn't I be?"  
  
Why wouldn't he be? The world's darkest wizard was after him and had killed his parents and Godfather, why wouldn't he be okay?  
  
"I don't know mate," Ron told him, "Just checking,"  
  
Harry opened his mouth to respond, but closed it quickly as the compartment door slid open. Ron followed his gaze, and his eyes fell on his sister.  
  
"Hullo Harry," Ginny smiled, "I think it's time you all got changed into you're robes, we're due to arrive at Hogwarts in ten minutes!"  
  
Hermione seemed to react very slowly, her brown eyes coming to life, as she was startled out of her thoughts.  
  
"Oh my!" she cried, grabbing a small bag, which obviously held her robes, and hurrying towards Ginny,  
  
"Thank you for reminding us!"  
  
"No problem, coming Ron?" Ginny asked,  
  
"Of course," Ron muttered, reaching for his trunk.  
  
He reached into it dumbly, feeling for his black robes, watching Ginny and Harry exchange small smiles.  
  
Harry stood, with a lopsided grin,  
  
"Come on Ron!" he cried, "We're almost home!"  
  
"Yea," Ron muttered, following Ginny and Harry to the back of the train. 


	6. The Feast

Ron's head bumped against the window with the constant jolting of the carriage that he was in. The field of grass jerked by him slowly, and the clouds overhead stirred with anger. Ron caught a small glimpse of the calm blue lake and the dark towers and walls of the castle. The trip from the Hogwarts Express to the castle, via the carriages carried by creatures known as Thestrals seemed very slow this year.  
  
"Harry, do you reckon these Thestrals are going fast enough? You can see them can't you, why don't you prod one and make them go faster?" Ron suggested turning from the window to face his best mate who was sitting beside him.  
  
Harry was laughing and smiling, despite his dark mood on the train, with Ginny.  
  
"Harry?" Ron questioned.  
  
"I can't believe you did that!" Ginny shrieked, and the two of them doubled over, laughing so hard no sound was coming from them.  
  
"Harry!" Ron cried.  
  
Harry clutched at his stomach, his face red from laughter. Ron felt a pang of jealous run through him. How was it that Harry could be silent with him, but have loads of fun with his kid sister? After a few moments of deep breathing Harry turned to him,  
  
"What did you ask Ron?"  
  
"Never mind," Ron said darkly, glancing across at Hermione who sniggered loudly, her arms folded neatly across her chest.  
  
He let out a heavy sigh, as the carriage rounded a curve in the road and the front entrance to the castle came into view.  
  
When the long line of carriages finally came to a stop, Ron stood to gather his trunk and owl cage. It was awkward, trying to avoid contact with Hermione, but he managed to make it out of the carriage, with all of his belongings. It was a rather chilly September first and Ron felt Hermione shiver as she stood beside him in nothing but her thin robes. He glanced at her reproachfully, but she glared at him, and took off in a huff towards the school. Harry turned and smiled weakly at Ron, as Ginny ran towards Dean Thomas and jumped into his awaiting arms. Ron groaned heavily and scolded Pigwidgeon who was fleeting around in his cage and hooting merrily.  
  
Most of the students had already made their way inside where it was warm. In the distance Ron watched Ginny leave Dean with a kiss and head back towards their carriage to get her things. She wasn't the only one headed in their direction. Luna Lovegood, the blonde Ravenclaw and Neville Longbottom his fellow Gryffindor, were approaching from opposite directions.  
  
"Hi," said Ginny bashfully, as she found her place between Ron and Hermione. Although she was saying it to the whole group her pale eyes rested on Harry.  
  
"Have a good summer?" Luna Lovegood asked dreamily as she and Neville joined the group.  
  
None of them said anything but shared a mutual smile. They'd all had horrible summers, but together they were united. They'd shared the same horrible experience, and were the only ones who understood each other. Finally Ron felt peace inside himself, his confidence returning. Harry nodded to them all, a lopsided grin filling his face. With a small sigh, he led the way into the castle.  
  
The sorting took place quickly, bringing Gryffindor house more students. Ron chuckled as the small terrified first years found spots at the end of the table and gave their undivided attention to the Headmaster who'd risen and raised his golden goblet.  
  
"Welcome," he said loudly, his grey eyes twinkling from behind his half- moon glasses, "To another Start of Term Feast, may this one be as good as the past!"  
  
"I love that man!" Ron cried, as his golden plate filled instantly with mountains of food.  
  
The Great Hall filled with cheerful clinks and clatters of forks, knives and spoons against metal, and rang with the sound of goblets clanging together.  
  
Hermione smiled, watching the first years marvel over their food, and stare up at the ceiling that was bewitched to look like the weather outside. She was happy to notice that a few of the young girls had pulled out shiny new copies of Hogwarts a History and were reading them closely, before pointing up at the ceiling and explaining it to the others.  
  
"You know," she said thoughtfully to Harry pausing for a sip of Pumpkin juice, "Since SPEW didn't turn out to well, and sixth year isn't supposed to be nearly as hard as the fifth, I've been thinking about starting up a studying club,"  
  
"Oh yes Hermione, because everyone wants to join a club for more school work!" Ron said through a mouth of potatoes.  
  
"Nobody asked you Ron!" she cried.  
  
"I think it's a wonderful idea Hermione," Neville piped up, and blushed as he spilt his pumpkin juice.  
  
"Scourjify," Ginny muttered, "You know Neville's right 'Mione, it really is a great idea, I for one would love to join!"  
  
Hermione grinned broadly, and finished up her dinner with a large treacle tart.  
  
"Well, after that wonderfully delicious dinner, a suppose a speech is in order," Dumbledore said merrily, "Do not worry, I will not keep you long. All of the first years, and many of our other students must be reminded, as they do every year that the Forbidden Forest is in fact forbidden, kindly refrain from going in there at any time. Many of you will be sad to know that Delores Umbridge is currently residing at St. Mungo's Hosptial, and is unable to return to her post as the Defense Against the Dark Art's teacher. Therefore, I have appointed Ms. Nymphadora Tonks as the new Professor. Some of you are aware that she is an Auror and works for the Ministry, however as part of her advanced training, she must have a placement in which to prove her responsibility and ability to teach others, so that she may train new Aurors when the time comes," Dumbledore surveyed the long faces at the mention of another teacher from the Ministry, as Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny craned their necks to catch a glimpse of Tonks, who was part of the Order.  
  
"You have my full assurance, that Professor Tonks will not issue any educational decrees, nor will she put a stop to any club, organization, or association, including certain 'Armies' that wish to defy Ministry regulators," There was a stream of laughter that filled the hall, "The events of the past year were not under my wishes, and I do apologize for what happened. My only goal this year is not to give anyone biased opinions but to advise you all to revaluate your morals, and remind you that wherever there is evil, there will always be good. I just hope that you will all be able to find the difference between right and wrong, because any decision will affect the lives of many." The hall was extremely quiet, "Well with out further ado, you are dismissed,"  
  
The silent hall filled with the sound of chatter, and swishing robes as all of the students exited and made their way to their House common rooms.  
  
"First years!" called Ron, "Come on you midgets I'll show you to our common room!"  
  
Harry smiled at Ron, as he grinned standing high above the small first years, which were now all ogling over Harry.  
  
"I'll see you in our dorm later," he called as Hermione started issuing out the password and smiling fondly at the young girls who'd been reading Hogwarts a History earlier.  
  
By the time Ron made it to his dorm, Seamus Finnigan, Neville and Harry were already asleep. He opened his rusty trunk, which had been placed at the end of his bed, and pulled out some wool pyjamas. Once he had them on, he sank into his bed, and let out a sigh. It had taken so long, because some Ravenclaw first years had followed the Gryffindors by accident, and so Hermione and Ron had to find their way to the Ravenclaw Common Room, which neither had been too. It had been a long and awkward trip, with only the help of Peeves the Poltergeist to help them. Ron turned on his side and tried to drown out the sound of Neville snores so he could fall asleep.  
  
When Hermione had returned to her dormitory, she was surprised to find it empty. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were nowhere to be seen. Hermione changed into a nightdress quickly and pulled back her long hair before climbing into bed, resting cozily under her quilts. She folded her pillow beneath her, but couldn't fall asleep as she thought about how Viktor had yet to reply to her letter. Maybe she ought to write him another to make sure he'd gotten the first one. She hoped he was all right. She closed her eyes quickly as she heard to giggling girls approach her dorm.  
  
"Well I didn't have a good of a summer as you or Padma did," Lavender said luminously, "But I did however meet up with that boy down the street."  
  
"He is a wizard isn't he?" Parvati cooed, as she made her way to her glittery pink trunk.  
  
"Oh yes, but he goes to Durmstrang," Lavender replied pulling her robes off.  
  
"Durmstrang?" Parvati asked, "Isn't that far?"  
  
"I suppose, but his parents make him, he says he hates it," Lavender explained.  
  
"Hmm...what's his name again?" Parvati asked pulling on a sheer night gown.  
  
"Steven Avery," Lavender said rather proudly, "His father works for the Ministry. Anyway he is absolutely, positively the most gorgeous guy around. And this morning before I left for Kings Cross, he kissed me!"  
  
"Ooo, what was it like?" Parvati squealed climbing into bed.  
  
"Oh it was soo perfect Parvati, honestly, I think I love him,"  
  
Hermione resisted the urge to snort, for then the other two would know she was awake.  
  
"He told me to wait until next summer; he said he'll wait for me!" Lavender gushed.  
  
"Hmm, well sounds like everyone had an awesome summer!" Parvati said, "Everyone got hooked up with somebody anyway,"  
  
"Do you think Hermione had a good summer?" Lavender asked.  
  
"Please, like anyone would kiss Hermione Granger!" Parvati cried.  
  
"Well, I heard Ginny Weasley telling some blonde girl that Hermione has a boyfriend and was staying at the Weasley place,"  
  
"You don't think it's..." Parvati was lost for words.  
  
"I've always seen Hermione with Ron!" Lavender grinned.  
  
"Well you better hope it isn't Ron, because ever since he made that save last term my sister has been going crazy over him!" Parvati said matter-of- factly, "And nobody gets in the way of what my sister wants."  
  
There was a pause of silence,  
  
"Well goodnight Parvati," Lavander whispered with a yawn.  
  
Hermione had a hard time concealing her laughter. Her with Ron! Ha! If only the girls knew who she was really with? Wouldn't Padma curl with envy? Hermione smiled to herself, and rolled her eyes before drifting off to sleep. 


	7. First Day Troubles

When Harry pulled open Ron's bed hangings the next day, he wasn't surprised to see his best friend sprawled on his stomach snoring into a puddle of drool.  
  
"Hey Ron!" Harry cried, nudging Ron's shoulder.  
  
"Too early," Ron muttered rolling over and waving his hand trying to beckon Harry away, "I will de-gnome the garden later!"  
  
"Ron, do I sound like your mother?" Harry asked with a laugh.  
  
He sat down on his own bed, and pulled on a bright blue pair of socks that were covered with golden snitches. Dobby the House elf had knit them for him a few Christmases ago, "Come on, get up, we're going to miss breakfast!"  
  
"Breakfast?" Ron sat up, suddenly fully awake, "What are we waiting for?"  
  
He jumped out of bed quickly and raced to the door.  
  
"Ron," Harry said softly.  
  
"Yes?" Ron replied licking his lips still thinking about breakfast.  
  
"You might want to get dressed," Harry suggested.  
  
"Ah, right!" Ron said, his ears turning pink as he glanced down at his woolly socks and boxer shorts.  
  
Hermione stared at Ginny,  
  
"You really don't think it's a bad sign, I mean, what if what Ron said was true?"  
  
"Hermione you're analyzing this way too much, Viktor's probably tied up with Quidditch or something. You said yourself your positive he loves you, so don't sweat it!" Ginny reminded.  
  
"I suppose you're right," Hermione sighed, "Still I hope he writes to me soon!"  
  
"He will, now eat your breakfast before it gets cold!" Ginny scolded, "Oy, Good morning Harry!"  
  
Harry sat down beside Hermione and pulled a plate towards himself, which magically filled with flap-jacks and bacon.  
  
"How are you ladies?" Harry asked, picking up his fork and knife and grinning at Ron who'd fallen into the space beside Ginny.  
  
"Fine thanks," Hermione answered pulling out a large book from her book bag. She opened it to a book-marked spot, and ate silently.  
  
Ron rumpled his hair with his still raw hand, and grinned at the plate below him.  
  
"Ron, didn't Mum teach you to dress?" Ginny asked, as she looked over him.  
  
"He was excited to eat," Harry told her for Ron, whose mouth was brimming with flapjack.  
  
In his rush, Ron hadn't tied his tie correctly and his robes were hanging loosely off his shoulders.  
  
"You know I really love Mum's cooking," He explained taking another bite of Flap-Jack and adding a slice of bacon to the mix, "Bud rewy ju'ust cawnd bead za ows ewofs bregast."  
  
The three of them stared at him, unable to understand.  
  
"I said, but really, you just can't beat the House elfs breakfast!"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes in disgust,  
  
"Can't you talk with you're mouth empty, instead of acting like such a pig?"  
  
Ron swallowed his mouthful and glared at her,  
  
"Did I ask for you're opinion?"  
  
"Harry, would you mind passing me the pumpkin juice," Ginny asked pleasantly trying to ignore the death glares that were shooting past her.  
  
"Of course!" Harry smiled, and reached for the pitcher.  
  
He passed it across the table to her, and she took it, their hands meeting slightly.  
  
Ron looked between the two of them, as they held on a little longer than necessary, smiling sweetly at each other. He narrowed his eyes.  
  
"Ginerva!" Dean Thomas called rushing towards them.  
  
Ginny and Harry both let go of the pitcher. It fell to the table and shattered spraying the pumpkin juice everywhere.  
  
"Did you sleep well?" Dean asked sitting down, but then his expression changed as he stood up again revealing a large wet spot on his backside.  
  
"Oh my," Ginny said throwing her hand to her mouth. Harry, Ron and Hermione had been sprayed with pumpkin juice, and the table was covered.  
  
"My flap-jacks!" Ron cried, staring at his dripping pancakes.  
  
He wasn't the only one to protest. The pumpkin juice had spread down the table, causing uproar from many sleepy-eyed Gryffindors.  
  
Ginny fished around for her wand hastily blushing furiously.  
  
"Don't worry about it," Hermione told her gently, flipping a pumpkin splattered page in her book.  
  
She picked her wand up from the table carelessly and flicked it at the table. The pitcher immediately remade itself. A second flick of her wand cleaned the table of the sticky juice, and a final flick dried the spot on Dean's backside.  
  
"What about my flap-jacks?" Ron growled.  
  
"Fix them yourself," Hermione snapped, returning to her book.  
  
Dean sat back down beside Ginny and put his arms about her waist. He leaned in closer and whispered something in her ear. She giggled softly and blushed once more.  
  
"Dean," she whispered.  
  
Harry's fork dropped onto his plate with a loud clatter. Ron looked up and followed his dim gaze. He watched his sister for only a minute before feeling queasy in his stomach.  
  
"Want to go to class?" Ron asked dully, looking at Harry.  
  
"Never been more ready," Harry said quietly still eyeing Ginny and Dean.  
  
"I'm glad you ruined my appetite," Ron cried at his sister angrily before hurrying out of the Great Hall with Harry close behind him.  
  
The Gryffindors had double Herbology first period, followed by History of Magic and then Astronomy after dinner. It wasn't a totally boring first day, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione would have been much happier to have Tonks teach them on the first day of class. Ron and Harry made it to Herbology first. Seamus, Dean and Neville quickly joined Ron and Harry. They made their way into to Green House number 5 quickly and sat down at an earth toned round table.  
  
"Morning chaps!" Professor Sprout called cheerfully to them from behind her plant-covered desk; "Hope you're ready for a fun first day back."  
  
They smiled politely, and watched as more Gryffindors and some Ravenclaws, who they were sharing the class with walk in. Ron made sure he was sitting in a spot where he could see Hermione, who'd joined Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, and her twin sister Padma.  
  
Once everyone had been seated, Professor Sprout explained to the class their first assignment. In groups of four or five each had to successfully sustain a Pregomore Polyplant's life for a week. Hermione explained to the class that Pregomore Polypants were very picky in what they ate. They preferred Alpha roots sliced to exactly one centimetre. As Professor Sprout handing out Alpha roots (which could only be cut by magical knives) and dragon dung for fertilizer, Neville explained to the boys that Pregomore Polyplant's were excellent for potion making, especially potions that involved sleeping. Each of them pretended to be interested while they began cutting their Alpha roots, which was dull work.  
  
"So who do you think is going to win the Quidditch Cup this year?" Seamus asked grinning.  
  
"Gryffindor obviously," Dean commented.  
  
"Sure I mean, Ron has proven as a good keeper hasn't he?" Neville smiled, watching Ron's ears turn red once more.  
  
"Well I think the best thing is that Harry isn't banned anymore, so now we can have a good seeker once more!" Ron retorted.  
  
"Hey your sister wasn't that bad, she was quite flashy up there on that broom," Dean said grinning, but stopped smiling when Ron glared at him.  
  
"Harry is likely to become the next Viktor Krum or something," Seamus said.  
  
"No, he's a lot better than me," Harry said, accidentally slicing part of his root to thin, "He's very good."  
  
"Best in the league," Dean said rather proudly, "Too bad he didn't play for England,"  
  
"Too bad he doesn't know one end of a broom from the other," Ron said chopping his roots very inaccurately.  
  
"I thought you liked Krum?" Neville asked, looking up from his perfectly cut roots and grimacing at Ron's.  
  
"He did," Harry laughed, "Until...well until..."  
  
"Until what?" Dean asked narrowing his dark eyes.  
  
"Until Hermione started dating him!" Ron cried savagely.  
  
"Hermione's dating Krum? The Viktor Krum?" Seamus cried spinning around in his chair to stare at her.  
  
"Yea," Ron muttered not bothering to watch how he was cutting his roots.  
  
"Well Ron, I mean, are you angry, because, well because you have feelings for her?" Dean asked uncertainly.  
  
"Me have feeling for Hermione?" Ron looked shocked, "No way, it's just that I know he's no good,"  
  
"I know what you mean," said Neville worriedly, "My Gran reckons he's got a girlfriend in every country,"  
  
"I tried to tell her that," Ron snarled, "But would she listen to me? No!"  
  
"Well I see why he would go for her; I mean she is pretty hot!" Seamus said.  
  
"She sure did get a nice tan over the summer," Said Dean casually staring at her.  
  
Harry felt Ron clench his fists under the table, so he kicked him hard in the shins.  
  
"Just because she's pretty doesn't mean that he has to...that they have to..." Ron's face was becoming abnormally red and reminding Harry of Vernon Dursley.  
  
"I think what Ron is trying to say is that there's more to Hermione than just looks." Harry offered.  
  
Hermione chopped her Alpha roots silently, listening to the conversation that Padma, Parvati and Lavender were having.  
  
"Ooo, I know he did get very tall and muscular over the summer!" Padma giggled.  
  
"Ron Weasley has to be one of the most handsome Quidditch Keepers there ever was!" Parvati agreed.  
  
"Wow Hermione, I sure wish I were you," Lavender sighed.  
  
"Why would you want that?" Hermione asked irritably.  
  
"Well, not only are you gorgeous, by the way I love what you've done with your hair, but you get to spend all that time with Ron!" Lavender explained pulling a mirror out of her robes pocket and glancing in it a few times, playing with odd strands of her blonde hair.  
  
"I don't see how I look any different then before, and besides Ron isn't that great, he is very insensitive and rude." Hermione huffed.  
  
"Come on Hermione, you must realize you look much older this year, with the curves and that smile," Parvati pointed out.  
  
"I'm sorry Parvati, but staring at myself in a mirror to realize that I look older isn't one of my pastimes," Hermione flushed, "I had better things to do all summer!"  
  
"Like writing to Harry, and being with Ron!" Padma snapped.  
  
"No like writing to my boyfriend, and ignoring Ron!" Hermione cried.  
  
"Boyfriend?" The girls all looked at each other.  
  
"Yes boyfriend," Hermione paused looking Padma in the eye, "I thought you liked Malfoy anyhow?"  
  
"Draco Malfoy?" Lavender shrieked as if the world were coming to an end, "You've got to be kidding me,"  
  
"Draco was so totally last year!" Padma cried defensively, "It's Ron I like now,"  
  
Hermione groaned and continued chopping her roots.  
  
"Hmm, do you think he'd like the nick name Ronnie?" Padma asked Parvati.  
  
Hermione chopped her roots a little bit harder.  
  
"Ooo, his red hair would go so well with your blue eyes Padma," Lavender sighed.  
  
"Do you think he'll go out with you?" Parvati asked.  
  
Hermione tried not to snort. Her knife was moving extremely quick now.  
  
"Of course he'll go out with me, what boy wouldn't? Ron's the new hottest thing, and if he's the best I've gotta have him. He is a hopeless git, but whatever, I will make him go out with me!"  
  
Hermione felt her anger rise and slammed down her knife with a sharp thud.  
  
All of the girls turned to glare at her.  
  
"Yes?" Lavender snarled.  
  
"Do you have a problem?" Padma asked.  
  
"You really think Ron will just up and go out with you?" Hermione laughed.  
  
Hermione picked her knife back up again as Madam Sprout looked their way.  
  
"Do I detect a hint of jealousy?"  
  
Chop! Chop!  
  
"Me Jealous? Why would I be? I have a boyfriend?" Hermione declared.  
  
"Who is it Neville?"  
  
Lavender snorted into her mirror,  
  
CHOP, CHOP.  
  
"It only took Ron what, four years to realize that you're a girl, I suppose it will only take me a week to make him realize I'm a woman!"  
  
CHOP! CH-  
  
"Ow!" Hermione cried, as she stared down at her now sliced finger.  
  
She winced in pain as the other girls laughed. Blood poured out of the wound and fell onto the table. Hermione cradled her hand carefully, and stood to find Professor Sprout.  
  
Ron watched Hermione stand up from her table. Despite the anger in her eyes her face was extremely pale. She was cradling her hand as she walked quickly by his table. Ron caught her eyes for one moment, but she glared at him.  
  
"Professor!" She cried, rushing over to Professor Sprout.  
  
"Oh dear, Miss Granger!" Professor Sprout cried, "You've cut yourself with a magical knife, you must get to the hospital wing at once, that won't heal on its own!"  
  
Ron stood up, feeling his insides curl. Every feeling he'd felt down at the Department of Mysteries was now flooding back to him. Hermione was hurt.  
  
"Ah, Mr. Weasley, would you mind escorting Miss Granger too the hospital wing," Professor Sprout asked, her brow furrowed.  
  
"No Problem," Ron said, rushing over ignoring the jealous looks both his and Hermione's tables were throwing at them.  
  
Hermione stood there wincing in pain as her bloodstained hand shook.  
  
"Hermione, are you okay?" he asked softly opening the door for her to exit into the garden patch.  
  
"Obviously not Ron," she snarled, but her eyes became soft again before they filled with a new wave of pain.  
  
Ron walked beside her staring into her eyes anxiously, his heart beating in his ears.  
  
"Maybe we should do something, it's not gonna stop bleeding, and it's a far trek to the Hospital wing."  
  
He paused and looked around. He bent down after a moment and picked a small daisy that was growing amongst the grass. He found his wand quickly and tapped the daisy. It transformed into a long handkerchief that was covered with sprigs of pollen. His ears turned a little red,  
  
"I was never that good at Transfiguration,"  
  
He reached for her hand and pulled it towards him, and she paused, as a cool breeze swept through her hair. Ron was hovering over her, staring deep into her eyes. She let out a shuddery sigh. Tears formed in her eyes as a new wave of pain ran down her arm from her severed finger.  
  
"Don't cry," he whispered to her, still staring down at her with concern written across his face, "You'll be okay,"  
  
She closed her eyes as his thumb rubbed gently over her hand, and then opened her eyes with a gasp and pulled her hand away.  
  
"Hermione," he protested, "Let me; you're losing too much blood!"  
  
He reached for her hand again, but she stepped away from him.  
  
"I just need to tie this around you're finger, it will stop the bleeding," He cried.  
  
"I'm fine, go back to Herbology Ron," she said darkly.  
  
"No, I'm taking you to the hospital wing," he insisted.  
  
Hermione glared at him, as her head began to throb in sync with her finger. She felt a bit light-headed. She groaned and held her hand up, letting Ron carefully tie the handkerchief around her hand. He was dangerously close again and she could feel his breath on her face. He stared at her finger in utmost concentration, carefully wrapping the white and yellow material. Her skin was soft and smooth, and he could once again smell her hair.  
  
"There," he whispered as he tied the last knot.  
  
Hermione stared up at him, her eyes narrowed, but this time in thought. Ron felt his heart catch in his throat as he locked eyes with her. She didn't pull her hand away.  
  
"Ron...I" she hesitated.  
  
"Hermione I miss you," He cut her off, "Trust me, please."  
  
"Trust what?"  
  
"That I'm telling the truth when I say he's no good for you."  
  
Her eyes flashed red. She pursed her lips, and snatched her hand away from his.  
  
"You just don't get it do you?" She cried stomping off towards the castle.  
  
"Hermione!" he called jogging up beside her.  
  
"Leave me alone!" She told him angrily.  
  
"But you need to get t-"  
  
"I know how to get there on my own Ron," She said darkly, throwing open a door.  
  
"You're so childish!" Ron spat.  
  
"And you're and insensitive jerk? Happy? You've pissed me off again," Hermione declared glaring at him.  
  
With out another word she went inside and slammed the door in his face. Ron glared at her back as she walked away still cradling her injured finger. Oh, he hated her! She was so childish, why couldn't she just accept the fact that Viktor was horrible! Ron spun on his foot and made his way back to the greenhouse kicking at a small patch of daisies on his way there.  
  
Hermione joined Ron, Harry and Ginny for lunch that day with her hand in a large bandage. She sat down with a smile despite the hostility she had displayed earlier. Ron ate in silence, picking at his plate while Ginny and Harry glanced nervously between them.  
  
"So were your morning classes good?" Hermione asked Ginny pleasantly.  
  
"No, McGonagall has loaded us with work!" Ginny mussed.  
  
"Yea, the fifth year is a lot of work," Harry smiled at her taking a bite of his sandwich.  
  
"We have Tonks after lunch!" Hermione said to Harry excitedly.  
  
"Yea, I am glad we finally got a proper teacher, and besides we know that she is nice."  
  
"You know, I am beginning to wonder if maybe Dumbledore assigned her as a teacher for more reasons than just 'training'."  
  
"What do you mean?" Ginny asked scrunching up her eyebrows.  
  
"What I mean is, maybe this has to do with the Order. Since we weren't at Grimmauld place this summer we didn't hear the Order's plans. I am curious to know if Tonks is here for a reason,"  
  
Harry stared at her in deep thought,  
  
"I think you might be right, but why would she be here if Hogwarts is the safest place?"  
  
"Maybe to keep an eye on him!" Ginny said matter-of-factly raising her eyebrows in the direction of the Slytherin table.  
  
Harry, and Hermione turned to look at Malfoy who was glaring at them as he ate his dinner.  
  
Mr. Malfoy had been captured back at the Department of Mysteries. It was Harry, Hermione, Neville, Luna, and Ron's fault that he had been captured. Hermione was right to assume that it would be more than just banter in the halls that the group would have to deal with from Malfoy.  
  
"That is a good theory," Hermione whispered to Ginny as she turned back around and finished off her dinner. 


	8. The Dark Lord Never Forgets

Tonks did turn out to be indeed a good Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. During the first two weeks of September she began by introducing them to all the defensive spells that they should know by now, watching them practice. She gave Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione excellent praise for their Patronuses.  
  
Neville's new wand seemed to be doing him wonders. He was excelling at almost ever class and had obtained a confidence that Harry never thought possible. Quidditch tryouts began the first week in September and the first match was drawing near. The Gryfindors were extremely busy with homework and quidditch talk, and no one, not even Hermione noticed the invisible dark cloud that was beginning to swirl overhead.  
  
A very tall woman with long dark hair and beady black eyes paced a dimly lit room. Her features could have been what one would call beautiful, but right now they were dripping with anger.  
  
"I still don't get it!" the woman cried placing her long narrow hands on her spindly hips.  
  
She was extremely thin, to the point where it was ghastly. Her lip curled in outrage,  
  
"Why not go for one of the Weasleys? They are like his family, and close to Dumbledore!"  
  
"I realize this Bella," the cool, rather high voice of Lord Voldemort answered calmly, "But that is just the thing. They are too close to Dumbledore, but SHE, she is close, but not close enough," Voldemort's evil grin, grew more malicious.  
  
Bella narrowed her sparse eyebrows and scowled in the fire light,  
  
"But we know he cares for the young one!"  
  
Voldemort stood quickly from his resting spot on a dusty couch. His eyes were glowing like embers from the nearby fireplace,  
  
"Do not speak to me about Virginia Weasley, Bellatrix Lestrange. Do you not understand that this is just like killing two muggles with once spell? Can you, my most faithful and intelligent servant not see it? She's a mudblood, and Harry does care for her. Perhaps he does not care for her as he cares for young Weasley, but she is still his best friend. This makes her valuable, not only will her pain and absence cause the emotions of many to stir, but she will know valuable information,"  
  
"Draco Malfoy, your newest servant, tells me that she is very clever," Bella protested.  
  
"She is a mudblood Bellatrix, worthy of the pain and death we will give her. Her pain will put pressure on Harry, and further his guilt, hopefully guilt him enough into giving me the prophecy," Voldemort growled stepping closer to Bellatrix Lestrange, who held her ground,  
  
"Besides, using Ginny would be pointless, she already knows what it feels like to feel my presence inside of her, haunting her every move," Voldemort reached out, caressing Bella's pale cheek, "Just like you,"  
  
He watched in satisfaction as she let her eye lashes flutter down over her cold eyes,  
  
"When shall I begin?" she whispered.  
  
"I think we need to make this a slow process, Harry needs to build up his guilt, watch her suffer. Just give her a little warning as soon as possible," Voldemort whispered back, now stroking Bella's dark hair.  
  
"A little warning..."  
  
Ron dipped his eagle feather quill deep into the ink bottle as if trying to extract good answers from the black ink. He touched the tip to a bit of parchment and let out a sigh.  
  
The Vampires of the sixteenth century were very-  
  
He crossed it out angrily, dipped his quill into the ink and started again,  
  
During the sixteenth century Vampires-  
  
He was never going to finish this essay for Professor Binns. Where was Hermione when he needed her? He looked up and glanced around the common room. There was no sign of her. He supposed it didn't matter anyway seeing that it had been days since she'd cut her finger in Herbology and they'd had their little row and she still wasn't talking to him. He closed his eyes and let his head fall to the yellowing paper with a soft thud. He hated being angry with her, and he hated having her angry with him, but did she really have to act so childish? When would she realize that she was always right and own up to the fact that Viktor Krum was no good for her? When would she realize that he had been standing in front of her for nearly four years with open arms? When was Ron going to find the courage to tell her?  
  
Ron let out a deep sigh. Hermione was the least of his problems, since the title of his essay was still staring up at him with no words written below. Harry would know, he must have the answers, where was he? Ron looked up wearily again, and couldn't spot Harry anywhere. Ron racked his brain. He was sure he'd seen Harry and Ginny playing Wizards' Chess moments earlier. He looked around the room; Ginny was nowhere to be found.  
  
As Ron continued to stare at the warm common room in puzzlement, many students began to pour through the portrait hole. Ron glanced at his watch with a groan. It was almost nine, which meant he had his rounds. He rolled up his parchment lazily and collected his inkbottle and quill, running it up the stairs to his dormitory. While by his bed, he glanced at the small bit of parchment hanging beside his Chudley Cannon poster and noticed that Hermione was set to patrol the South corridors of the school by the Slytherin common room. He on the other hand was to patrol the area closest to the Ravenclaw end of the school.  
  
Ron pinned his badge on hastily and made it back down the stairs, narrowly escaping collision with many first and second years.  
  
When he was in the common room he noticed that Harry and Ginny were still nowhere to be found. He assumed Ginny must be off somewhere with Dean - Ron gulped – alone. He scowled before noticing a familiar blonde head not to far off,  
  
"Hey Neville, have you seen Harry or Ginny?"  
  
Neville looked up at the sound of his name. When he realized Ron was standing in front of him, he made a quick lunge for the various crumpled pieces of parchment that littered the table he was sitting at.  
  
"Wasn't d-doing anything," he sputtered dumbly, his cheeks turning crimson.  
  
Ron eyed him suspiciously. He noticed many of the papers that Neville was juggling were covered with tiny hearts and were written on in loopy red ink. He narrowed his eyebrows,  
  
"Have you seen my sister or Harry?"  
  
"Nope," Neville said with an irregularly (even for Neville) high voice, "Well I'm off to bed, nice chat Ron,"  
  
And with that Neville dashed off to the stairs and disappeared into the darkness, loose parchment and all. Ron stared up after him questioningly, but shrugged after a moment and made his way out the portrait hole and into the empty corridors.  
  
Ron had been wondering around for many long minutes outside of the Ravenclaw common room, when The Grey Lady decided to stop and talk to him. She congratulated him on his superb playing the year before and asked if Ron was still on the team for this year. Ron boasted about the Gryffindor team for several minutes until the Grey Lady's transparent eyes seemed to look glazed over. He decided to ask her about vampires instead and see if she could help him with his unfinished essay. She loomed over him, swishing back and forth for a few moments before deciding that she must go ask the Bloody Baron,  
  
"He was friends with one in his day," she smiled, "Wait for me Ronald dear, I will be back,"  
  
He grinned up at her and shouted his thanks as she glided off and disappeared through the far wall.  
  
"I thought prefects were meant to be quiet?" A soft voice filled his ears.  
  
Ron spun around. He was staring at Padma Patil, standing in the middle of the hall, he robes wrapped loosely around her thin nightdress, and puffy slippers adorning her feet.  
  
"They are," he said uncertainly, shifting on his feet nervously.  
  
Why was she staring at him like that, and why didn't she have her robes pulled up tighter.  
  
"Shouldn't you be in your common room?" he asked pushing the long strands of red hair out of his eyes and glancing at his watch.  
  
"Maybe I'm looking for a detention," Padma whispered stepping forward, "Don't do that," she reached up and pushed the long strands of his hair back into his eyes, "It looks very cute this way,"  
  
Ron felt the heat rise up his neck and rest at the tips of his ears.  
  
"Why would you want a detention?" He asked trying to keep a steady voice.  
  
"Well do you administer them? Because if you did, I would get to spend time with you wouldn't I?"  
  
"I suppose," He answered, feeling his throat tighten, "But only if I made your detention something that involved me."  
  
"Do you think you would do that?" Padma asked, reaching out to dust off his chest.  
  
"I d-don't know," Ron said breathing quickly.  
  
"Ron..." she whispered huskily, falling towards him.  
  
He reached out to catch her, but when he felt her lips brush the side of his neck, he pushed her away,  
  
"Look Padma, you need to get back inside, before Mrs. Norris sees you, because I can assure you she won't be as lenient as me,"  
  
"Or as cute," Padma sighed.  
  
"Right, well I better be off," Ron said backing away slowly.  
  
"Goodnight Ron," she whispered heading for her common room, swaying her hips.  
  
He let out a deep sigh of relief. What was Padma's problem? Why was she coming on to him?  
  
The Grey Lady suddenly appeared in front of him,  
  
"So The Bloody Baron says that vampires – Ronald, what's the matter?"  
  
"Padma Patil, from Ravenclaw..." Ron muttered.  
  
"Oh yes, she does have such a crush on you, she's been talking about you non stop since she arrived at the start of term," The Grey Lady smiled down at him.  
  
Ron stared at her. She'd been talking about him? Padma Patil, talking about Ron Weasley? Something major was going on? Was this some joke?  
  
"Look, I really ought to be going, its time for the other prefects to start their duties and I really have to finish that essay, thanks for your help!"  
  
Ron broke off in a run.  
  
"But I didn't get to tell you about the vampires!" The Grey Lady protested.  
  
Ron never heard her; he had stopped running and was staring at a shoe. It was a lone shoe with a sock and bit of ankle. Why in the world would a sock ankle and shoe be standing by it self feet away from him? Not to mention the shoe looked an awful lot like –  
  
"Shhh, Harry be quiet!" Ginny whispered, "He'll hear you,"  
  
Harry tried to conceal his laughter, but couldn't help it, and the two of them fell on the floor laughing, only parts of their bodies showing, the others vanished under Harry's invisibility cloak.  
  
"Ginny? Harry?" Ron asked disbelievingly, "Why are you two out of the common room, together?"  
  
"We," Ginny panted, "Were playing some pranks on the Slytherins,"  
  
Ron almost smiled at her, but remembered the badge on his chest,  
  
"Pranks?"  
  
"Well Fred and George are gone, and we thought we'd keep their legend going you know?" Harry asked with a laugh.  
  
"You're not going to give us detention are you?" Ginny asked staring up at him with large eyes.  
  
"Hurry up and get under the cloak, Mr. Filch is just around the corner," Harry cried.  
  
He reached out and pulled a giggling Ginny towards him and threw the cloak around them, smiling at Ron just before he vanished. Ron groaned and kept walking, in the opposite direction.  
  
Hermione walked slowly down the dark hall, stopping idly to stare out various windows into the starry sky. It had been several days with no reply from Viktor. She envisioned a large grey owl swooping down into the moonlight, carrying a small pink rose (her favorite) and a large letter from Viktor. The letter never came. It was a long time before Hermione realized that large tears had formed in the corners of her eyes. It was unlike Viktor to put off a letter to her. Should she write him again? Would she seem too dependent? She shuddered. Hermione Granger was not dependent on others. She was a big girl, able to deal with life by herself. It would just help if she had somebody on her side. Maybe if she patched things up with Ron, then she could stop being so suspicious of Harry. She paused; Ron was only trying to look out for her wasn't he? But it wasn't only what he said about Viktor that turned her away. She was turned away because of the feeling in her stomach every time she was close to him. She was turned away because he heart fluttered every time she met his deep brown eyes.  
  
Slow, echoing footsteps from down the hall startled Hermione. She jumped away from the wall, and lit the end of her wand.  
  
"Who's down there?" She called calmly, "I am a prefect and you should be in your dormitory, acts like this merit a detention,"  
  
"Well, I guess I will scurry back to my little dorm then wont I?" Draco Malfoy's cold drawling voice rang in her ears.  
  
It seemed ages until his loud footsteps brought him into the light.  
  
"What do you want Malfoy?" Hermione said with disgust.  
  
"Shut up Mudblood, I didn't come here for a conversation," Draco growled, his eyes flashing with anger.  
  
"Oh, I suppose you came to call me foul names, and threaten me into despair?" Hermione asked sarcastically, batting her eyelashes, "Well Malfoy, there's only one flaw, I have my wand out already and I know enough jinxes to send you from here to the top of the Astronomy tower."  
  
"You won't be needing your wand Granger," Draco whispered eyeing the thin piece of wood that stood between them, "Word has it that you and your idiot friends are to blame, for my respected father being in Azkaban!"  
  
"Your father is despicable Malfoy, not respected, and yes, we sent him to his rightful destination," she said haughtily placing a firmer grip on her wand.  
  
"You foul Mudblood!" Draco cried lunging towards her, but she backed up and pressed her wand against his chest.  
  
"That's right Malfoy, a Mudblood was the demise of your father, and Crabbe and Goyle aren't here to flex their muscles for you, so what are you gonna do?"  
  
Hermione let out a small gasp, as she felt her wand wretch out of her hand. It hit the stone floor with a clink and it was then that Hermione realized Draco had been holding his own wand under his cloak. His face grew into a grin as he reached towards her and grabbed her arms tightly.  
  
"I will never forget how you sent my father to Azkaban," Draco yelled into her face, Hermione closed her eyes, "And neither will the Dark Lord,"  
  
He pulled Hermione close and she cried out, frightened of what he might do to her. His breath hit the side her face, his grip on her tightening,  
  
"The Dark Lord never forgets those who cross against him," Draco whispered in her ear.  
  
Hermione stared at him with her large fearful eyes, but before she could question him he thrust her as has as he could against the nearby wall. Her head cracked against it and bright lights sprang out in front of her eyes. She slid down the wall slowly tasting blood, realizing she must have bit her lip. She knew she was screaming but she couldn't hear anything but Draco's laughter. He pulled her up from the floor and cast her against the ground.  
  
"You'll think next time you cross the Malfoy family won't you?" he cried kicking her shin, "Won't you Mudblood?"  
  
Hermione whimpered, crawling across the floor, feeling for her wand. Draco stepped on her hand.  
  
"Answer me!" He cried raising his wand arm, pointing his ebony wand at her.  
  
She let her mouth fall open as his cloak slid back and revealed a dark skull tattooed into his skin. Draco was a death eater.  
  
"Alright then," Draco smiled, beginning to flick his wand. Hermione clamped her eyes shut.  
  
"Expelliramus!" A deep voice shouted.  
  
Draco's wand flew out of his hands joined by Hermione's which flew up from the floor and Ron caught both of them tightly in his hand.  
  
"What are you doing here Weasel?" Draco asked calmly.  
  
"What the hell did you do to her?" Ron raged, his face, eyes and ears all red enough to match his hair.  
  
"Oh I was just preparing her for the worst to come, the filthy little Mudblood," Draco grinned.  
  
"Stupefy!" Ron shouted.  
  
Draco was stunned mildly and fell against the wall. Ron raced forward, grabbing at Draco's robes and lifted him up off the floor against the wall.  
  
"Apologize," he bellowed.  
  
"Make me!"  
  
Ron stared at Draco, and Hermione watched his grip tighten as he clasped Draco's collar. She tried to sit up as she spat and coughed blood.  
  
"You're a nasty wizard Malfoy, and mark my words, if Voldemort doesn't kill you first I will!"  
  
"Do you dream about her a lot Weasley?" Draco whispered vehemently nodding towards Hermione.  
  
Ron glared at him.  
  
"Not up to your usual standard, usually you dream about things you can't have, things of worth, not rubbish like that."  
  
Ron slammed Draco against the wall, and watched with satisfaction as he winced it pain.  
  
"Best keep dreaming Weasley, because pretty soon dreams is all you will have left," Draco sputtered. 


	9. Sorting Things Out

Ron recovered from what Malfoy had said quickly. How did Malfoy know? Had Hermione realized what he'd said, or what it meant? He glared down at Malfoy, his lip curling viciously,  
  
"The only thing of worth Malfoy," he spat, "would be kicking your -"  
  
"Ron, no!" Hermione whimpered from behind him.  
  
Ron stared hard into Malfoy's cloudy gray eyes. Evil seemed to swirl amongst the golden flecks and to Ron's horror he noticed Malfoy's sneer turn to a grin.  
  
"Unfortunately Weasel we're all prefects here, and if one of us says anything we'll loose our badges," Draco said pushing against the wall and standing up, "So I will take this," he grabbed the ebony wand sticking out from Ron's pocket, "And be gone."  
  
Malfoy turned to go, but Ron reached out and grabbed his arm tightly. He listened as Hermione shifted on the ground and let out a small gasp.  
  
"Don't ever touch her again," he snarled.  
  
Malfoy wrenched his arm out of Ron's grip and fled from the corridor, disappearing into darkness, leaving Ron glowering.  
  
Hermione's head was aching, she felt sick to her stomach and her hand was swollen, but none of this was on the brink of her mind.  
  
'Do you dream of her often Weasley?'  
  
Hermione closed her eyes, listening to Draco's retreating steps and Ron's heavy breathing.  
  
'Best keep dreaming, pretty soon that's all you'll have left,'  
  
Hermione's eyes flew open, and the world spun. She let out a groan and brought a cold hand to the back of her head, marking where Draco's shove against the wall had injured her.  
  
"Hermione?" Ron asked distantly.  
  
She watched him, rush over and fall to his knees beside her on the cold stone floor. She looked into his deep eyes that glistened in the starlight that fell softly through the nearby window. She watched, breathing slowly as he raised his hands, and cupped both sides of her face. Her eyes fluttered shut.  
  
"Hermione?"  
  
"Ron," she replied softly, letting him know she was alright.  
  
"Hermione are you okay? Are you hurt?" Ron asked urgently, gently rubbing her cheek with his thumb.  
  
Hermione looked up into his deep eyes and nodded. He was staring at her with such concern, and to think, she'd hated him. Tears filled her eyes.  
  
"Oh 'Mione don't cry," he whispered as he wiped her tears away with his thumbs, "Don't cry."  
  
"Ron, I'm so sorry," she sobbed as he pulled her close.  
  
"Don't apologize, just tell me if Malfoy hurt you,"  
  
She glanced up at him uncertainly, the last tears slowly slipping down her cheeks. She lifted her hand slowly to the back of her head. Ron followed her fingers, lightly brushing through her hair.  
  
"Your head?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"You need to see Madam Pompfrey."  
  
"No, we'll get into trouble," Hermione cried.  
  
"You might have a concussion," Ron explained reaching for her hands to help her up of the damp floor.  
  
She struggled to her feet and stumbled falling into his chest. She felt the warmth from his body, his heart beat surging through her fingers, his quickened breath. She welcomed it all, having spent so long on the cold floor. Ron held her there for a moment before she gained balance.  
  
"You sure you are all right?"  
  
She blushed crimson and he held onto her arm as they left the dark lonely corridor.  
  
After they'd made there way up the stairs to the main level of the castle, and Ron had turned towards the hospital wing Hermione paused,  
  
"Could we not just head to the common room?"  
  
Ron opened his mouth to protest, but caught the glint in her eyes, and then turned towards the Gryffindor tower. Their feet echoed sharply in the deserted hallways, the only other sounds were their breath. When they reached the Fat Lady, Ron muttered a password and they were welcomed to their haven by warm firelight.  
  
"Come sit down," Ron said leading her to a nearby armchair.  
  
She sat obediently. He looked over her carefully, inspecting her for any other bruises. After mending a few small cuts, Ron let out a sigh.  
  
"I will kill him," he muttered.  
  
"No, that will make you as foul as he is," Hermione protested, "Nothing can be done for a wizard so foul."  
  
She paused for a moment, thinking of what Draco Malfoy had said to Ron. Should she ask him about it? Was it safe?  
  
"Ron, what Malfoy said, what did he mean by it?" Hermione asked, as Ron pressed a cool cloth that he had conjured to the back of her head.  
  
"What do you mean?" Ron asked not meeting her eyes.  
  
"The part, where he said dreams were all you'd have left of me?" Hermione replied calmly.  
  
"It was a load of rubbish, whatever it was Hermione, he knows nothing, only trying to scare you since his father is in jail." Ron comforted.  
  
Hermione had never seen Ron like this before. His deep eyes were set hard against his pale skin; His red hair slightly aloft from the brawl. Every word he uttered was so well thought out, like he'd planned the answers, as if he knew this day would come. Ron was always quick with what he said, and never thought about what it would mean, making his sentences insensitive. Ron was sure there was no explanation for what Malfoy had said, but Hermione closed her eyes and thought hard about the skull she had seen littering Malfoy's placid skin, on a fold just below his elbow. She shuttered.  
  
"Are you cold?" Ron asked quickly, standing to take off his own cloak.  
  
"No, I was just," she paused, he kneeled back down, "I was just remembering the skull I saw,"  
  
Ron looked taken back.  
  
"Malfoy is a death eater," Hermione let out.  
  
"What?" Ron cried, "Are you sure?"  
  
"I saw the mark," Hermione told him quietly, as if she were afraid somebody might over hear.  
  
Ron stared at her for a moment; realization seemed to pass over him.  
  
"Promise me," he said looking down at his hands, as he'd done all summer when she'd entered the room, "Promise me, that even if we aren't speaking to one another you tell me if something isn't right,"  
  
"I promise," she said with a yawn.  
  
She shifted in her chair and rested propped her head on her hand, feeling drowsiness over take her.  
  
"No, now Hermione, you can't fall asleep, you might have a concussion," Ron said.  
  
She watched the concern pass through his face once more, and worry flicker in his eyes. She smiled softly.  
  
"Thank-you,"  
  
"Hermione, what are friends for?" Ron said, but then his eyes grew large.  
  
"I am sorry," she whispered, "I should have respected your opinion and realized you were only trying to protect me."  
  
"I am sorry to Hermione, I should have respected the ones you love, and if he's good enough for you he should be good enough for me as well."  
  
Hermione suppressed a smile. This small gesture brought such beauty to her face that Ron was taken with it almost immediately. He could tell her how he felt right now, while they were here alone. He shook those feelings out of his head, and returned her smile.  
  
"Friends?" he questioned.  
  
"Friends," Hermione replied, leaning back in her chair.  
  
"Well since we're in for a long night is there any chance you could help me with my Vampire essay?"  
  
Hermione grinned in response.  
  
The sun hit Harry's bed early the next morning. He rolled over with a groan, and squeezed his eyes shut. He'd been out so late with Ginny he wasn't sure he wanted to get up quite yet. He smiled to himself as he thought of the night before, the time he'd spent with Ginny. He thought of the smell of her long red hair, and bright eyes. He thought of the way she put him in mind of his own mother, and the comfort he felt when he was with her. In many ways she was his friend and comrade like Hermione, but in so many ways she stole his heart, and made him happy, but it was a different feeling then the way he'd felt for Cho. This was more, this was bigger. It was true, Harry was falling for her, but the familiar feeling of guilt coursed through him. Her boyfriend was lying in the room next to his and here he was thinking about her. He knew things weren't going quite as well as Ginny wished with Dean, but even still, Harry shouldn't be coveting her. It was true she'd been with him, through the trying times of this summer, when he'd grieved for Sirius.  
  
Sirius, the one person Harry had cared for. He was dead. Harry cared for Ginny. Would her fate be the same? Would Voldemort play the right cards? If Harry had learned one thing over the summer and past school year it was not to be naive. Voldemort knew of the connection he and Harry shared, perhaps he should refrain for caring for anyone too much. Harry glanced at Ron lying beside him, face down on his bed. Perhaps if he distanced himself.  
  
Breakfast was a gay affair. Hermione and Ron were once again talking. Ron was slurping back oatmeal as fast as he could while Hermione immersed herself in the Daily Prophet. Ginny and Dean talked quietly together to Ron's right, while Harry discussed the upcoming quidditch match with Neville.  
  
Ginny was barely listening to Dean talk about himself once more. He was always talking about himself, how he was feeling, how he'd slept, what he wanted to do. He was sweet enough, but Ginny was lacking something, she was lacking fun, happiness. She needed a balance, if only she and Dean could find a balance such as the one she had with Harry. He knew how to have fun, Weasley style. She caught his green eyes from across the table, and he flashed a grin at her.  
  
"Ginny?" Dean questioned, "Ginny are you listening?"  
  
"Yes," Ginny said with a bored sigh, "You couldn't find your lucky socks."  
  
Ron finished his bowl of oatmeal with ease, just as Hermione folded up the Daily Prophet. She looked around the Great Hall hopefully, and Ron knew she was looking for any late owls, praying that maybe Viktor had written to her. Jealousy pressed in the back of his mind, he pushed it aside. He watched as she reached up to the back of her head, and touched it tenderly. She caught his eye, and they shared a mutual smile. Hermione's eyebrows rose for a moment as she focused on something behind him. Ron scrunched his own eyebrows and followed her gaze. Padma Patil was fast approaching the Gryffindor table; Padma Patil was fast approaching him. She smiled at him cheerfully as she skipped over and squeezed herself between Ron and Dean.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"Hi," Ron said uncertainly picking his spoon back up and dipping at his empty bowl.  
  
"How are you?"  
  
"Fine," Ron hated small talk.  
  
Padma seemed to read his mind.  
  
"Look, my little brother wants to enter a chess competition this summer," Padma began, leaning closer to Ron, he skin grazing his arm, "And I was wondering if you could show me how to play, I mean I've heard your good," She blushed, "At that sort of thing,"  
  
"He is," Hermione said quietly from behind the book she'd pulled out from under the table.  
  
Padma's cheeks grew pink above a tight smile.  
  
"So what do you say Ron?"  
  
"Um, well I have quidditch," he paused as she let out a squeal.  
  
"Oh you are such a superb keeper,"  
  
"Yes." Ron trailed, "And ofcourse I have prefect duties to attend to,"  
  
"But you can fit me in can't you Ronnie," she asked with a grin.  
  
He felt his cheeks and ears grow red, feeling conscious of those who sat before him. But Harry was in deep conversation with Neville who stared elsewhere, towards Hermione as she read her book.  
  
"I suppose I could find some time," He told Padma who beamed.  
  
"That's great, how about tonight? Seven O'clock in the Library?"  
  
"He's got to do rounds at nine," Hermione said sharply, turning the page.  
  
Padma glared at her, "Well then I guess you can walk me to my common room before hand,"  
  
Ron nodded, smiling up at her beautiful face, "Sure can,"  
  
"Good," Padma said standing up, brushing her body against his, "I guess I will see you later then."  
  
She winked at him, and walked away, baring the same sway of her hips as the night before. Ron watched her disappear from the Great Hall and let out a sigh.  
  
Hermione snorted. Ron looked up at her. The way she'd snorted it almost reminded him of Umbridge.  
  
"Yes?" he inquired.  
  
"You don't like her do you?" Hermione asked, rolling her eyes.  
  
"I'm not sure," he answered as his heart fluttered, "Maybe I do,"  
  
Bright sunlight filtered through the large framed windows of the library later on that day. Neville sat by himself at a small table, drinking in the sounds and sights of the large room. Thousands of books rested on long shelves, many which quivered or shouted when you touched them. Tall book ends in the shape of wizards, centaurs and even house elves stood at each end of the massive line of thick books, guarding them proudly. Around him many students sat in groups, whispering quietly to each other and occasionally sneaking food into their mouths. Madam Pince, a woman who appeared to have a permanent scowl, was pacing the length of the library in short, quick steps aiming to catch students doing wrong to her precious books. The familiar sound of quills being dipped into inkbottles and scratching on parchment filled Neville's ears.  
  
A smile filled his full cheeks when his eyes dropped upon yet another familiar sight. There she was, beautiful, intelligent and calm. She was at a table not far from his with two other familiar faces. She wrote with her quill quickly, looking up once and a while to listen to what the other two girls were saying, frequently showing and explaining what it was she was writing. Neville sighed as he watched the sunlight bathe through her hair, causing it to sparkle and glimmer. She was so much like a rose, surrounded by thorny bush. She was so unmistakably beautiful and yet many avoided her, because she seemed to them, dangerous. Neville however, was not afraid of her sharp thorns.  
  
Sometimes Neville watched, as shadows would fall over her, casting darkness into her eyes. She did not get the recognition she deserved. They held her with high expectations, and she always met them. Yet everyone beamed at those around her, the older wiser ones, the bravest of them all, and she did not utter a complaint. Though all three of the girls that sat a little ways from him had been down in the Department of Mysteries and had been brave and intelligent, she'd stolen his heart. He'd realized over the summer that they were much alike. She was sheltered, by the ones around her, like he was. She needed to prove herself, like he did. She wanted revenge. Neville wanted revenge. He felt emotions that he'd never felt well up inside of him, and he looked back down to the love note he was writing, letting out a sigh, Gryffindors where supposed to be brave, but he thought he could write it better in words.  
  
Ginny looked between Hermione and Luna quickly. Hermione looked completely devastated, whereas Luna had a loony grin on her face.  
  
"Isn't it obvious?" Luna cried throwing her quill down on the table, "Look my father's been saying for years that all those quidditch players are as corrupt as the Ministry,"  
  
"Thank-you Luna," Ginny snarled, "But I'm pretty sure that's not what Hermione wants to hear."  
  
"Hermione," Luna pushed on ignoring Ginny, "The boy is busy, preoccupied, with something other than you,"  
  
"He does take his quidditch seriously..." Hermione trailed, sniffing softly as Luna reached up to play with her sparkling blonde hair.  
  
"Maybe he has another girl," Luna replied softly.  
  
"Luna!" Ginny cried.  
  
"Well I'm only telling her the truth," Luna retorted.  
  
Hermione looked down at her parchment as tears filled her eyes. It had been six days with no reply from Viktor; maybe he was preoccupied.  
  
"I've thought about that possibility," Hermione sniffled.  
  
"Oh Hermione," Ginny cried, putting a hand on her shoulder, "You told me this summer that you thought you loved him; don't give up on him now. I am sure he has a perfect motive for not writing you back."  
  
"Or maybe the problem is that it isn't Viktor that Hermione loves," Luna suggested throwing Ginny a meaningful glance, "We've all been through a lot this summer, especially seeing what happened to us at the end of last term, and who has always been there for her?"  
  
"Viktor was there for me all summer Luna!" Hermione cried.  
  
"And so was Ron," Luna whispered looking away, "And Ginny had Harry to talk to..."  
  
The girls stared at her as if time had frozen. The noisy library seemed muted, everything stopped. Even the tear on Hermione's cheek paused as if waiting to hear what Luna said before finishing its journey. Luna looked down.  
  
"I just wish I would've had somebody, who knew what went on to talk to," she glanced back up at the girls who were gapping at her, probably because she never revealed anything personal, "A boy that is..."  
  
It wasn't just any boy either. A lot of girls talked bad about his pudgy cheeks and boyish hair, but Luna had grown to appreciate both of his features. He was different; she liked that about him. She'd realized he'd been sitting by them staring at their table for quite sometime, but she controlled herself to listen to Hermione talk about Viktor. That was right; Luna Lovegood had it bad for Neville Longbottom.  
  
"Luna, are you saying...do you like one of the boys, I mean that were with us," she gasped, "Do you like Harry?"  
  
A moment of silence passed between the girls as a deep blush grew on Ginny's normally pale cheeks,  
  
"Or Ron..." She added, recovering from the near fatal attempt to conceal her feelings for Harry.  
  
Luna let out a deep sigh. It was almost as if he didn't exist. They missed him again. Who would care about poor little old Neville? She would, she had promised herself.  
  
Ron strolled casually down the long corridor that led to the library as he held his grandfather's chessboard to him tightly. His thoughts wondered idly, drifting from his family to Hermione to Harry. He wondered where Harry had snuck off to, and if Ginny was with him. He felt his stomach flip- flop. Could you imagine, his best friend, with his sister? Didn't those two words just clash with each other?  
  
Ron paused when he came to the entrance to the library. Several torches had been lit, as the sunset off in the distance, sinking below the edge of the lake, turning its blue waters crimson. He was here to meet Padma Patil, one whom many considered the best-looking witch at the school. He couldn't believe she wanted him to teach her to play chess, but it wasn't as though he would mind. Then he could join the circle Harry, Hermione and Ginny had joined around him. They'd left him in the middle while they'd all gone out and had experiences with the opposite sex, leaving him standing alone ridiculously. Well not anymore, he could join them now. Hermione was allowed to have a boyfriend; Harry was smitten with Ginny, so Ron could have a companion to.  
  
When he finally spotted her approaching the library from the opposite end of the corridor, his heart fluttered. He noticed she'd left her black robes open, revealing her tight dress shirt, short skirt and very cute blue knee high socks. Her long ravishing hair seemed to suit her house, as it was as black as a raven. She'd left it to hang loosely around her shoulders.  
  
He sputtered for words as she came closer, smiling and saying hello. He felt heat rise up into his face, and smiled bashfully at the floor. She let out a giggle and then stepped into the library. He followed Padma to the corner of the room and sat down across from her placing his tattered Wizard's chessboard down in front of her. Immediately he regretted it. He had forgotten that she came from a well a family full of wealth. Padma and Parvati were always wearing beautiful clothing, and nice robes. He looked down sheepishly at his own tattered robes, and then glanced back at his chipped and worn board. He'd never felt so conscious in his life.  
  
Padma didn't seem to take notice of Ron's behaviour and immediately grinned at him.  
  
"You brought the board," she smiled, reaching for it, "That's wonderful!"  
  
"Well...you know..."  
  
Ron watched as she opened it with her long slender hands, being careful not to chip her pink polished nails.  
  
"I am sorry that it's so tattered," Ron muttered to the table, "It was my grandfather's and it's not like I ever get anything ne-"  
  
"It's wonderful!" Padma cried, "I've always heard that older chess boards work better anyways,"  
  
Ron looked up at her, peering into her eyes. Did she mean that? She smiled at him again, flashing her perfect white teeth before reaching across the table and taking his hand into hers. Ron felt relief spread through his body. She didn't care that it was second-hand.  
  
"Show me," she whispered, sliding her other hand towards a few pawns that had rolled out onto the table, "Teach me how,"  
  
He moved his chair closer to hers, and started explaining how the different pieces worked and how many spaces each could move. He'd expected her to stare up at him with a dreamy look, which resembled Luna Lovegood, not really listening to what he said. But she didn't. She grasped each chess piece, carefully feeling it with her fingers, while flicking her blue eyes up to meet his, occasionally asking questions. It took him a full hour to explain how it worked, and he suddenly felt smart. He was always having things explained to him, but this time he was the expert.  
  
Padma seemed to be enjoying herself, and as the library emptied, as people rose for bed, they sat there together, and he joined Padma in her first ever game of wizards chess. Ron had figured sitting with her for so long, would have been a challenge, as he'd never known what to say to her before, but they ended up talking the night away. Maybe this girl stuff was easier than it seemed.  
  
Harry went to bed early that night. He'd had a long day, NEWT level Transfiguration was a nightmare, especially with Hermione being quiet and Ron staring off into space. He'd hoped that the two becoming friends again would have eased the tension that always filled the room when they were together, but it hadn't. Harry began to wonder if he was imagining the tension. Maybe he was just tense because he was trying to hard to be somebody who he wasn't. Harry was the hero type, the type that stood out in the crowd, and did the right thing. But since Sirius's death he'd been reformed.  
  
He was quiet, pale and depressed. He was trying to live up to Sirius's expectations – his father's expectations, but it wasn't happening. He felt a strong urge to prove himself; every time he walked passed Dumbledore in the Great Hall. Dumbledore took him to be some kind of kid, who couldn't understand anything. He was fragile to the Order, like a bomb in their hands, and he knew it. If he knew it, how come Dumbledore couldn't realize he knew? He was a danger to everything around him. He was waiting to explode. Perhaps it was Harry who was causing all this tension.  
  
He needed to talk, he needed to be happy, he needed to breathe; he needed Ginny. She was the only person he could breathe around, the only person he could be happy with. Guilt hovered in the back of his mind. She had a boyfriend. He was dangerous. He couldn't fall for her. He mustn't fall for her. It would be chaos, catastrophic. Nothing could happen to her, and he wouldn't let it.  
  
Harry did not fall asleep. He lay awake in the cold moonlight, on his hard mattress thinking about his only demise. She was beautiful and everlasting, but she would be the one to bring him down. He couldn't let this happen.  
  
Even after Ron came in, and fell into his bed with a heavy sigh, Harry did not fall asleep. The presence of his friend, who was so closely related so intertwined to the subject at hand unsettled him. He needed out, the thoughts of the others in his dormitory had wondered freely into the air and were clouding up his mind. He decided to retreat to his favourite place to think and reflect. He decided to make his was down the stairs to his favourite armchair that rested in front of the fireplace.  
  
In many dreams Harry had pictured his father sitting in the very same place, thinking about the way his life was headed. He pictured his father thinking longingly of the lone red head that sat feet away from him, studying carelessly. The uneasiness he'd felt upstairs in his dormitory slipped away as he realized the similarity between him and his father. They were both suckers for red heads - Suckers for deep green eyes.  
  
The portrait hole swung open, and two people entered. Harry sank low in his chair trying to ignore them, praying it wasn't some first years that would come to ogle over him. Harry realized it couldn't be first years; the two shadowy people were much too quiet. A silence rested between them. The taller of the two bent down to kiss the other. It lasted a few seconds before the obvious female pulled away, and in the firelight Harry caught a glimpse of her red hair. Was he having a vision? Were these his parents who stood so close in the shadows?  
  
"Goodnight Dean," Ginny whispered looking to the floor, not realizing Harry was staring at her from across the room.  
  
He sank further into his chair. It was Ginny and Dean. Harry felt ashamed that he had somehow sneaked into such a private moment. Suddenly he felt more than shame. Jealousy spewed into his brain like ravishing waves. He gritted his teeth. Danger drew near. He took a few deep breaths. If he could control himself danger would pass. He could save her from his curse. The death curse.  
  
He remained still as Dean walked passed him and silently made his way up to the boys' dormitories. Once he was gone Harry sat up, hoping to get a glace of Ginny as she ran up he girls stairs. She wasn't near the stairs; she was still standing where Dean had left her, only she wasn't looking at the floor anymore she was staring at him.  
  
"Harry?" She asked, puzzled.  
  
"Sorry Gin," Harry muttered turning back around in his chair, "I should have told you that I was here,"  
  
"No," she replied, walking towards the fireplace, "Are you okay?"  
  
"Just couldn't sleep," Harry explained, "Too much on my mind...you know Sirius and stuff,"  
  
"I think about him a lot too," Ginny admitted, "And don't worry you weren't interrupting anything with Dean and I,"  
  
"Looked like more than that to me," Harry told her, looking over at her.  
  
She was staring into the firelight, and the flames danced in her eyes.  
  
"No it wasn't anything more," She sighed, "You know Harry, I'm getting real sick of his 'Lucky Socks',"  
  
Harry let out a laugh,  
  
"Yea that's why I'm glad it's Neville in my dorm, he snores, but he doesn't talk about himself twenty-four-seven,"  
  
Ginny's eyes darkened and she let out a low sigh. Harry wanted to reach out and take her hand. He wanted to comfort her and tell her to dump that low life prick she was dating. He wanted to hold her in his arms and kiss her.  
  
"Ginny," he cried.  
  
But she'd said his name at the same time.  
  
"You go first," he whispered, looking away and rumpling his dark, already messy hair.  
  
Control he reminded himself, he needed to be in control.  
  
"Harry," Ginny began again, "I am just getting so sick of Dean, I mean he's a great boyfriend, really he is."  
  
Harry held in the urge to snicker.  
  
"He is kind and sweet," she continued, "But he lacks, he lacks something that you have,"  
  
Harry looked up at her.  
  
"You understand me, I mean it's not like I can talk to him about the Order or Sirius or V-Voldemort." She shuttered.  
  
It was the first time she'd used his name,  
  
"You're a great friend Harry, I just wish he'd be more like you," she sighed, moving closer to Harry.  
  
Harry bit his lip.  
  
Control he reminded himself, but every second she seemed to be moving closer to him. Why was she doing this?  
  
"Ginny," he whispered, licking his lips.  
  
He felt his heart begin to race as her beautiful lips came closer to his. He couldn't kiss her, he couldn't love her; she had a boyfriend. He was dangerous.  
  
"Ginny," he said again, this time pulling away and standing up from the armchair, "I think it's time for bed."  
  
She looked at him, with her brilliant green eyes, and realization passed over her face.  
  
"Yes," she said vaguely, "Time for bed."  
  
She got up and dashed to the stairs calling out goodnight. Even in the shadows, Harry knew her face had turned bright red.  
  
Harry threw himself back down into the protective arms of the chair. He wanted to cover himself, to hide from what she was doing to him. He let his eyes close and tried hard to think of what his dad would do, what Sirius would do. But they wouldn't know. They'd never been in his situation. They'd never been penalized for caring for someone. They hadn't been cursed since the age of one. Nobody had. He was alone.  
  
He cringed as he heard the portrait door swing open again.  
  
"Harry?" Hermione questioned on her way to the girls' stairs.  
  
He listened to the sound of her feet approaching him, and sat up straighter trying to clear his mind.  
  
"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, placing a soft hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Yea, yea I'm fine," he said looking up at her, "Why are you up so late?"  
  
"Oh you know," she sighed, sitting down in the place where Ginny had been, "I had my rounds."  
  
"Shouldn't you have been back," he checked his wristwatch, "Half an hour ago?"  
  
"Yea," Hermione agreed, "I stopped at the owlery,"  
  
"Letter to Viktor?" Harry asked, his voice already becoming bored.  
  
When she didn't reply, he looked over at her. She had shrunk into her seat, much like he had when Ginny had come through the portrait with Dean. Tears had filled her eyes.  
  
"Hermione?"  
  
"He hasn't written me back in over a month Harry," She sniffed.  
  
"Oh Hermione," Harry sighed, feeling irritated that something this small would bug her when his life was in shambles, "I'm sure he has his reasons,"  
  
Hermione nodded,  
  
"That's a long time for Viktor, he always writes back, the longest time between his letters are a day," Hermione whimpered, "Harry, Luna reckons he's pre-pre-preoccupied,"  
  
Harry took a moment to realize what she was trying to say,  
  
"Look Hermione, I am sure that he has a very reasonable explanation for it, there's no point in listening to Loony Lovegood," Harry told her, "I'm sure you're just working yourself up over nothing."  
  
He paused thinking about what Luna had said to him at the end of last year. How she had talked about the veil. Perhaps she wasn't so Loony...  
  
Hermione's face relaxed a bit,  
  
"Perhaps you're right, I am overreacting aren't I?" She asked, and then smiled flinging her arms around Harry, "Thank-you Harry, you're such a wonderful friend."  
  
Harry hugged her back, but a soon as he made contact with her his scar set fire. He pushed Hermione away from his, with a Neandthal-like shout.  
  
"Harry,"  
  
He fell to his knees, his face was burning he knew it.  
  
"Harry? Are you all right? Do you need Madame Pompfrey? Professor McGonagall? Dumbledore?" Hermione asked urgently.  
  
He clutched and clutched at his scar, willing the pain to stop, but it came. It came fiercer than ever.  
  
"Do you care for her Potter?" A dark, high voice came.  
  
Blinking back tears of pain, Harry moved his head so he could look at Hermione hovering over him, panic rising in her face.  
  
"Answer me!" the high voice shouted, and red cat-like eyes flashed before him.  
  
He screamed again as his scar burst into endless pain.  
  
"Harry?" Hermione cried again.  
  
"Get out of here!" He screamed, still rubbing his scar, rolling on the floor, "GET AWAY FROM ME!"  
  
He heard Hermione scamper away, as the pain took over him. It bathed over him, and he could feel Voldemort feeding on his pain. After a moment he felt himself pass into a cool darkness, where there was no pain, no Hermione, and no Voldemort. 


	10. World of White

The darkness was fading. Harry could see light behind his eyelids. He strained to open them. There was a soft muffle of voices in the distance. He tried to call out to them. His mind stung in a rude backlash at his actions.  
  
"I think he's waking up!" a shrill voice called.  
  
There was a loud shuffle. Harry attempted to open his eyes once more. He blinked as the world welcomed him. He let a groan escape from his throat, as the memories of Voldemort's eyes flashed before him.  
  
"Harry?" a small voice asked feebly.  
  
Harry knew the voice. A sense of calmness passed over him, and he struggled to sit up. A pair of hands grasped his arms and aided him. He moved his eyes to the pale hands that still rested against his arms.  
  
"Harry?" the voice cried urgently, "Say something, are you alright?"  
  
Harry looked up and stared into bright green eyes. His eyes shifted and he noticed a haze of red. Was this his mother? As he peered into them he noticed his own reflection. He was pale, and his glasses were absent. Why was she here?  
  
He groped at the table beside him, for his glasses. Once he found them, he placed them on his face. Ginny stared down at him.  
  
"Harry please," another voice pleaded.  
  
Harry shifted his eyes and noticed Hermione sitting across from him on another bed. Where was he? He took in the room around him, and realized he was in the hospital.  
  
"I'm fine," he croaked, sitting up further, "I'm hungry."  
  
"Already took care of that mate," Came Ron's voice.  
  
Harry grinned, and rumpled his hair as he'd seen his father do in Snape's pensive. Ron stepped foreword holding a tray,  
  
"Dobby showed up a little while ago, with breakfast for all of us, we've been here for a few hours," he explained as Harry took the tray from him.  
  
Harry remembered there was a time when he had loathed the small house-elf, but now there were times when Harry loved him with all his heart.  
  
"Harry," Ginny began again, "What happened last night?"  
  
Harry moved his eyes back to her as he swallowed some porridge. She was sitting on the edge of his bed, gazing down at him with utmost concern. He let his eyes close softly. She must think it was her fault. She must think it was the conversation they'd had that had caused him to go berserk. He realized now, that all of his friends were staring at him like the time bomb he was. They all thought he was crazy. Harry couldn't blame them; no normal people had spasms like he did.  
  
"Ginny," Harry began, not wanting to remember Voldemort's terrible voice that rested in his head,  
  
'You don't care for her do you Potter?'  
  
Harry gasped. That was it. Now he understood. Voldemort realized the way to get to Harry was through those he cared for. Like...Hermione, and Ron. But what if Voldemort found out how Harry felt about Ginny? He would kill her, and it would be Harry's fault. It would be his entire fault, like Sirius. There was only one thing to do.  
  
"Leave," he muttered, putting his porridge bowl down on the bed side table where his glasses had been.  
  
"Harry?" Hermione asked tensely.  
  
"Leave, please," Harry begged, not meeting her eyes.  
  
"But Harry," Ron began.  
  
"Just leave!" Harry said sternly, becoming angry.  
  
Didn't they understand? Didn't they get it? He was dangerous. He closed his eyes and waited to hear their footsteps leave him alone in the hospital wing.  
  
When the last steps echoed back at him, Harry opened his eyes. Ginny was still in front of him.  
  
"Ginny, you have to leave," He warned.  
  
"Harry," she asked, tears welling in her eyes.  
  
Harry knew they'd been close over the summer, and the sight of her tears was making him feel sick. Ginny was reminding him of Cho. He didn't need another Cho.  
  
"Please tell me what's wrong," Ginny sniffed, "You can't just forget I'm your friend."  
  
"Ginny, you don't understand," Harry explained trying to remain calm.  
  
"I would if you would just tell me!" She snapped at him, "You act like you're all misunderstood all the time, but we all really care about you, and we're worried."  
  
"That's the big game isn't it?" Harry snapped, "Find out what's wrong with Harry! Let's get into Harry's mind, because he knows when Voldemort is going to kill somebody! Hope that Harry doesn't blow up and have another spasm because then we all know we're in trouble!"  
  
"Don't yell at me!" she retorted, "It's not like that at all, I just want to make sure you're alright."  
  
"Well it may be news to you Gin, but I'm not alright, I never have been, I never will be," Harry explained, throwing a dark look her way.  
  
"If you just sat down and sorted things out maybe you'd be alright," Ginny said softly, looking reproachful.  
  
"I'd be alright if I didn't have a mass murderer in my thoughts all the time, I'd be alright if I had a mother and a father, I'd be fine if I wasn't Harry Potter!"  
  
"Well you are so deal with it!" Ginny shouted.  
  
"You think its easy being me?" Harry asked.  
  
"I don't think its easy at all, but you are who you are, and you were born to do what you have to, you can't dwell on it Harry, if you want to be happy you've got to let it go!"  
  
"Get out," he muttered laying back down in his bed.  
  
"Harry!" she protested.  
  
"Leave!"  
  
He closed his eyes, and regretted their whole conversation when he heard her stomp away. There were just some things she would never understand and as much as he cared about her, as much as it hurt him, he had to push her away.  
  
Ginny rubbed her face with the back of her hand. It was almost lunch time. The morning periods had gone so slow, not to mention it had been spent with the Slytherins. She'd been in a state of disarray the whole morning thanks to the infamous Harry Potter. He'd been playing with her mind ever since she'd heard of him. At first it had just been a school girl crush, he was famous and cute. But now, now that she knew of him, his life, and was his friend it had changed. It was something that was always in the back of her mind, while she read text books, wrote essays, talked to Dean, you name it, she was always thinking of Harry. She couldn't believe the yelling match they'd had in the hospital; she was supposed to be his friend. She cared about him, she was sure he knew that, and yet he acted as though she didn't care. He was so screwed up sometimes.  
  
When the bell finally rang, Ginny was the first to leave the classroom, ignoring the chants that were raised by a few Slytherins. She practically ran to the Great Hall, hoping that Harry was out of the hospital wing so that she could reconcile with him. She craned her neck as she made her way to the Great Hall's entrance. She found only Hermione, Ron and a crimson Neville sitting at their usual spot at the Gryffindor table. She pushed through the crowd of people standing by the doorway, racing to sit with her friends. She needed to talk to them about Harry's odd behavior. Somebody grabbed at her wrist and spun her around. Dean Thomas's cologne filled her nostrils.  
  
"Hey beautiful," Dean whispered in her ear.  
  
"I really don't have time for this right now Dean," Ginny said impatiently.  
  
"What do you mean you don't have time?" He asked, outraged.  
  
"I need to speak with Hermione," Ginny explained, "I'll catch up with you later okay?"  
  
She pulled away from him, but he held onto her wrist.  
  
"You heard about the Hogsmede trip?" he questioned.  
  
"Umm..."  
  
"This weekend, we should meet at the Hogshead, get a drink, and then maybe head up past the Shrieking Shack to one of those nice caves and-"  
  
"Yea sure whatever," Ginny cried, still watching the Gryffindor table for any signs of Harry.  
  
"Ginny," Dean said uncertainly.  
  
"Yes, that's nice Dean," Ginny replied absent mindedly, "Look, I've really got to speak to Hermione,"  
  
With that she dashed away, falling into the seat beside Neville, Harry's seat.  
  
"Hey," Hermione said as she sat down.  
  
Ginny examined her expression. She was smiling, her cheeks were flushed, but her brown eyes had turned a cloudy grey.  
  
"He still hasn't written you?" Ginny whispered leaning closer pretending to reach across the table for the pepper shaker.  
  
Hermione shook her head.  
  
"Listen you guys," Ginny whispered poking Ron in the ribs. He had his head turned and was staring at the Ravenclaw table. Many times before Ginny had seen Harry do the same thing. It annoyed her.  
  
"Ron!" she hissed, he turned around to face her, his ears turning red.  
  
"What?" He asked, rubbing his side where she'd poked him.  
  
"What were you staring at?" Ginny asked, and watched as Hermione rolled her eyes, before taking a bite of her sandwich.  
  
"Oh, um, nothing, what do you want?" Ron asked.  
  
Ginny decided not to press the matter.  
  
"Look," she said getting straight to the point, "When you two left the hospital this morning, I stayed behind. I don't know if you two realized, but Harry and I were, well are, really good friends, ever since the summer, when...well you know...whatever it was that happened between you two, "Ginny paused feeling a small amount of tension rise between the two across from her, "But anyway I figured maybe he would tell me what was up, or something, but instead he yelled at me. He told me to go away. Hermione, didn't he say the same thing to you last night?"  
  
She nodded,  
  
"Well I am really worried about him, I know something is wrong but he won't tell me. I mean it's not everyday that he turns me, let alone his best friends away."  
  
Hermione seemed to have come back to the world, her hazy grey eyes had turned to their normal intelligent colour, and Ron, had stopped shoving his face full of sandwich, which was always a good sign. Neville was staring at her intently, and she realized he'd been listening. But she didn't mind, he was one of them.  
  
"Maybe he's being possessed by You-Know-Who!" Ron suggested, taking a rather large bite of his sandwich.  
  
Hermione snickered,  
  
"No, that's not it, I'm pretty sure Ginny would know if he was,"  
  
The three of them looked at her expectantly.  
  
"He's not being possessed," Ginny told them.  
  
"See Ron," Hermione shot him a look, "Look you guys, it's not like Harry has ever been open with his feelings, so maybe something is really up this time. Do you think we should talk to Dumbledore?"  
  
"I'd give it a day or two first, I know that Harry isn't exactly pleased with him," Ginny told them quietly.  
  
"I'll head to the library tonight and look up his symptoms and see if there are any weird spells, or anything," Hermione replied, looking pleased with her self.  
  
Ginny couldn't help but roll her eyes, there were times when even books couldn't give you answers. That was the trouble with Hermione, she always thought what books said were right. It wasn't that way at all. Harry had already proved that he was different from the rest of the world...Ginny paused at this thought, but was interrupted when Neville piped up.  
  
"I'll come with you Hermione; I have some work to do anyways,"  
  
"Okay then," Hermione replied, "Oh Ron, would you put your eyes back in your head?"  
  
Padma Patil had just walked by him, with a goofy grin and her skirt pulled up rather high. She paused a little ways away,  
  
"Are we still on for tonight Ronnie?" she called, with an abnormally sweet voice.  
  
Ginny watched, feeling slightly sick as Ron nodded sheepishly.  
  
Padma answered him with a false giggle and than joined a group of loud girls.  
  
Hermione drained her juice, slammed it on the table , and then gathered her books.  
  
"Where are you going?" Ginny asked, as Hermione stood up, and shouldered her book bag.  
  
"The Owlery," Hermione muttered.  
  
"Well I will see you in class," Ron said reaching for her unfinished sandwich.  
  
"Right," Hermione said through clenched teeth as she walked away.  
  
Neville quickly ate the last bit of his sandwich before racing after her, calling to her, saying he had to deliver a letter to his Gran.  
  
Ginny looked at Ron for only a moment before standing up with a sigh. She shook her head when he looked up at her.  
  
"What?" he asked.  
  
"Never mind, I'm going for a walk, see you later," Ginny told him, and with that she left the Great Hall.  
  
Harry was lost in his world of white. This world of white could only be found in Madam Pompfrey's infirmary. The patron worshipped the colour and every time that Harry had a stay in the hospital he discovered yet another shade. There were white curtains, white bed sheets, spreads, basins, pots, bottles, cauldrons, even Madam Pompfrey's wand had beautiful white splotches etched into the cherry wood.  
  
"Harry dear," Madam Pompfrey prompted as she re-fluffed some white pillows at a nearby bed, "The Headmaster wishes to see you in a few minutes, do me a favor and drink up that last bit of potion before you get dressed."  
  
She dropped the pillows back on the flat bed, and walked over to him, briskly pouring out some potion into a goblet and then hastily pulling the white hanging around him.  
  
Harry let out a sigh, grabbing his goblet. As he watched the liquid swirl and hiss in his cup, he thought about Dumbledore. What did he want - a report on Voldemort's whereabouts? Even if Harry knew he wasn't about to tell him. He knew he was the big weapon that good and evil where fighting over, but he hated being it. He hated being the object of everyone's attention. He hated being him. Harry downed the potion without even the slightest grimace. He quickly pulled on his robes, and bid Madam Pompfrey goodbye.  
  
On his way to the Headmaster's office, he found himself wondering towards the old trophy room. Ron had had to clean each trophy without magic three years prior. Harry smiled to himself. The Chamber of Secrets flashed before his eyes, he remembered the sorting hat, saving Ginny. He paused, and in the dusty reflection of a trophy, watched as his smile faded. Sirius had had many detentions in this room as well. These decrepit walls knew of Harry's Godfather, perhaps even his mother and father. He walked slowly along the shelf of trophies letting his fingers run over them idly. He came to a large, dusty trophy. As he peered closer, he found what he was looking for. A small inscription on the dirty silver read his father's name. Harry stared at it for what seemed to be ages.  
  
"There you are Harry," Dumbledore's aged voice called, "I was beginning to worry about you,"  
  
Harry lifted his fingers from the dirty trophy and turned to face the old Headmaster.  
  
"I am perfectly fine," Harry told him narrowing his eyes.  
  
"It's rather dusty in here don't you think?" Dumbledore asked with a faint smile, "Shall we proceed to my office?"  
  
Did he always have to smile? Harry thought as he dragged his feet behind Dumbledore. His green eyes focused on the back of Dumbledore's swirling robes. He was almost transfixed by the constant movement, the folds of fabric. A high-pitched cackle erupted in his mind. His scar stung.  
  
Even though his eyes smarted, while his forehead stung, Harry could see the Gargoyle that dictated the entrance to Dumbledore's Office in the distance. It was no time before Harry arrived in the office he loved and loathed at the same time. Dumbledore shut the door pleasantly before taking a seat. Harry was trapped, again. Numerous silver instruments littered the tables, and the walls were covered with books and pictures of old Headmasters. The last time Harry had been in this office, Sirius had just died. Harry had thrown objects, and yelled and screamed his lungs out. Dumbledore had sat there calmly. Anger grew in Harry. How could Dumbledore always remain calm? It was an idiotic calmness that drove Harry insane.  
  
"Please Harry, you make me nervous while you stand so stiff like that," Dumbledore chuckled, "Sit down,"  
  
The chair in front of Dumbledore's desk slid back, so that Harry could sit down.  
  
"You are probably wondering why you are here," Dumbledore began.  
  
But Harry knew. He shook his head rudely.  
  
"I don't know where Voldemort is," he said dully, "And I can't explain what happened to me last night, sorry."  
  
Harry watched as Dumbledore folded his hands in the calmest of ways, before smiling at him.  
  
"Actually I brought you hear to tell you that I've decided we should recommence your Occulmency lessons," Dumbledore told him.  
  
Harry stared at him. More time with Snape? More time to hear Snape ridicule his parents, and Sirius. He frowned.  
  
"There's no need to get upset, I've decided to teach you," Dumbledore said quietly.  
  
Harry stared at him closely. Wasn't he too dangerous? Didn't Dumbledore want to detach his feelings for Harry?  
  
"Why you?" Harry muttered.  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, "I thought you would be pleased to have me as your teacher."  
  
"No why have you decided to teach me?" Harry asked, standing up, "I thought you didn't want to be close to me? I thought you only want to use me when you need to?"  
  
"Harry that is not the case," Dumbledore replied with a grave sigh, "Last term, I was worried that Voldemort would use you spy on me, and I knew that I cared about you too much to let anything happen, so I refrained from seeing you, even looking at you. And I already told you that I was wrong. It was foolish of me Harry it was."  
  
"When do the lessons begin?" Harry asked, looking away from him.  
  
"This week? Every Tuesday?" Dumbledore shrugged, "I've already confronted Ms. Johnson and she reckons that won't interfere with your Quidditch practice."  
  
Harry felt a grin forming on his face. He'd forgotten about Quidditch.  
  
"That is unless you are quitting that team, but I figured after your ban, you'd be excited to get back on the pitch,"  
  
"I am!" Harry cried, smiling at Dumbledore.  
  
"Good, well Harry, it suppose its best you head down to dinner, I heard that the Elves are making quite a feast tonight."  
  
Harry stood up and retreated to the door.  
  
"Are you going to Hogsmede this weekend," Dumbledore called from his desk, just as Harry's hand grasped the doorknob.  
  
"I didn't realize that there was a trip this weekend, but yea I'm sure I am," Harry commented.  
  
"Well, while you're there, would you mind grabbing me a few more Sherbet Lemons? My stash is rather low." Dumbledore asked.  
  
"Sure thing, See you on Tuesday, Professor," 


	11. The Fight

Running her fingers along the long spines of numerous books, Hermione hummed softly to herself as she searched for the book she was looking for. Ancient Healers...Magical Maladies...Curse Spells and Their Effect on the Unsuspecting Wizard...Is Someone Other Than Your Conscious Talking To You?...Hermione paused at this book. It sounded useful. She pulled it out off the shelf, and closed her eyes hoping this book wouldn't yell at her, spit dust at her, or try to eat parts of her body. The book remained still in her hands. She sighed and retreated to the round table she was sitting at. Neville's papers littered the table. He was off looking for a book on Serecotta seedlings, a dangerous plant that Madame Sprout had growing in greenhouse number seven. She opened the book and began reading over the table of contents. She wondered if Harry was feeling better yet. Speaking of Harry, where was Ron? Off with that tramp of a witch Padma Patil, she reminded herself. She grimaced. She needed to focus on the task at hand, figuring out what was wrong with Harry. What was Ron's problem with Viktor anyway? It wasn't like he would be any better for her...not really anyway. What qualities did he have? Other than that he knew her very well, and he was always around? He did have nice eyes...but – What was she talking about? She was already in a happy relationship with Viktor...She paused as a flash of red caught her eye. She stared more intently at Neville's scattered notes. There was a wrinkled piece of parchment hidden under a stack of Herbology notes. It had been written in red ink, instead of Neville's usual green. She glanced around the library hastily with no glimpse of Neville. She reached forward and snatched the paper. She'd only begun to read the first line, when Neville came waddling towards her carrying a large pile of books.  
  
"Hermione, do you think you could give me a hand?" he called.  
  
She looked up from the paper, and her face flushed. Although Neville's eyes barely grazed the top of the pile of books, she could see them narrow.  
  
"Whatcha reading?" he asked getting closer.  
  
"N-nothing," She stammered before stuffing the note into her book bag quickly.  
  
She got up from the table and rushed to help him. After grabbing a few books she decided to change the subject,  
  
"Looks like you found a few good books eh Nev?"  
  
"Yea, hopefully I can find out what the antidotes are for Serecotta stings," with that Neville went on a long tangent about the properties of a Serecotta plant. Hermione sat down, occasionally nodding, while reading on into her own pile of books.  
  
An hour had gone by before Hermione sat up straight from her hunched position. She'd been sure she'd felt eyes on her, but when she looked up she realized the library had emptied and Neville was diligently reading. She let out a sigh. Neville's blue eyes met her.  
  
"Every thing okay?" he asked.  
  
She frowned and shook her head.  
  
"What's up?" Neville asked, closing his book.  
  
"Well, I don't know...I guess I am worried about Harry, he's been acting so strange lately. I mean he barely even talks to me anymore."  
  
Neville gave a sympathetic nod.  
  
"And well..." she hesitated.  
  
"Go on Hermione," Neville prompted.  
  
"Well, Viktor, my boyfriend, he hasn't written me in so long. It's odd because he always writes me right back. And I know he's busy with quidditch, but it's been so long. I am so worried. I know he's all right, I mean if anything had happened to him it would have been in the Daily Prophet but I don't know if I should write him again? Wouldn't that make me look desperate?" Hermione cried.  
  
"I don't think so..." Neville trailed.  
  
"Look Neville, I am sick of being the little girl, the little dependent girl that every one worries about. If I write another letter to him, I will look so...dependent! I don't want him to think I can't last with out a letter from him."  
  
"You know, I know exactly what you mean. My Gran is always trying to look out for me, which is fine really, but she acts like I'm a little boy, like I can't handle myself. I may not be as quick as you or Harry with a wand, but I do know how to fend for myself. I just always seem to be the butt of everyone's joke, or the target for everyone's torment. I'm not even sure why. But I am not a helpless little boy. As for you Hermione, you are the most independent person I know. I don't think a letter is going to bring you down. Why don't you write him?" Neville told her.  
  
Hermione stared at him for a moment. She'd never realized it but Neville was in the same, if not worse, situation that she was. Everyone was always looking out for Neville, because he 'Couldn't' do anything for himself; just like they looked out for her.  
  
"Thank-you Neville," she smiled, "I feel a bit better to know I'm not alone,"  
  
Neville grinned back,  
  
"You never have to be alone Hermione, I will always be there for you,"  
  
Hermione, stared at him for a moment, and then began to collect the notes she'd written. She put her books back in a neat pile in the middle of the table.  
  
"I'm gonna head back to the common room," she said quietly.  
  
"Hold on," Neville said finishing the last sentence on his note with a flourish, "I'm coming with you."  
  
The stars lit the courtyard beautifully. Ron was sitting on a stone bench with Padma, alone in the cool darkness. Padma let out a sigh and snuggled closer to Ron.  
  
"It was such a good idea to come out here Ronnie," she sighed, staring up into the sky.  
  
Ron's red and gold Gryffindor scarf blew around his face in the soft breeze the came up from the lake. He felt warmth spread to his cheeks, and his dinner rumble in his stomach, as Padma moved her hand and rested it on his thigh. Her long hair flicked in the wind and she turned to smile at him. He stared at her blankly. Was she expecting him to say something? He didn't know what to say. She let out a sigh.  
  
"You're so cute," she said taping his freckled nose with the end of her finger.  
  
Ron smiled softly.  
  
"You're pretty too Padma," he replied, throwing his arm around her shoulder.  
  
He felt Padma's other hand float up his stomach, and it recoiled at the ticklish sensation.  
  
"Are you ticklish?" she asked with a grin.  
  
"Only a little," he said before he burst out with laughter as she continued to tickle him.  
  
Their laughter hung in the air, as Padma tilted her head, her lips very close to his.  
  
"I like you Ron Weasley," she whispered, "I like you a lot."  
  
He knew what she was waiting for. She was waiting for an invitation to Hogsmede. Almost all the sixth years had paired up already. It was the talk of the day. He'd listened to Hermione and Ginny gossip about it all during dinner, while he'd sat silently beside Harry.  
  
Her warm lips against his interrupted his thoughts, as Ron received his first kiss. Immediately his hormones kicked in, and Ron placed his arms around her small frame. Her lips were soft, and as Harry had said, very wet. She pressed her lips against his harder, pushing him against the brick wall of the castle. She pulled away, moving her body so she was half sitting on him.  
  
"Ronnie," she giggled, before leaning in once again.  
  
Ron barely had time to catch his breath before her lips smothered him again. This time, her tongue worked against his lips prying them open. He obliged. The deepened kiss was...thrilling. Ron was thoroughly enjoying himself, and regretted her pulling away so soon. He could not believe that he was making out with one of the hottest girls in the school. As she sat on his lap, she smiled down on him.  
  
"Mmm, I liked that," she said, licking her lips.  
  
"Me too," Ron croaked, his hormones still racing like crazy.  
  
He felt her lower herself once again, and his lips ached for more of her sweet taste. She gave it to him, kissing him wildly. When her hands slipped under his cloak and began working on the buttons of his shirt, Ron pushed her away.  
  
"What are you doing?" he asked dumbly.  
  
"Having fun," she laughed, her blue eyes snapping in the starlight, "What are you doing?"  
  
"Don't you think we're moving a bit...fast?" he asked.  
  
Her eyes narrowed,  
  
"You don't like me?" she pouted.  
  
"No, Padma, I think you're great," he cried, "You are beautiful, intelligent and loads of fun, but I just don't think we should be doing this so soon,"  
  
She slid off of his lap and landed on the bench beside him with a huff.  
  
"Padma," he whispered, not wanting to disappoint her, "Please don't be angry, I really really like you,"  
  
She looked up at him, through her long dark eyelashes. She wanted the invitation. He could almost feel the thoughts from her mind, ricocheting off his body. He reached for her hand,  
  
"Come on," he said standing up, "Let's go inside, it's getting cold, and I have my rounds to do,"  
  
A frown pulled at the corners of her mouth and he knew that she was disappointed. Ron held the door open for her, and she entered silently, making her way down the corridor towards her common room.  
  
Hermione walked faster, wanting to get to the common room, where she could escape Neville. He'd been talking none stop the whole way from the library. It was giving her a headache. Suddenly Neville reached for her wrist.  
  
"Hey Hermione, since you're feeling so badly, would you like to come to Hogsmede with me this weekend?" he asked his shoes.  
  
Hogsmede? This weekend? With Neville? Alarms went off in Hermione's mind as she remembered the love note she had stashed in her book bag.  
  
"Umm..." she hesitated, watching Neville's face crush, "I have a boyfriend Neville, and you know that,"  
  
Neville laughed heartily, a reaction she was not expecting.  
  
"Not as a date Hermione," he smiled, "Just as friends, you just look lonely is all."  
  
Hermione smiled at him as they rounded the corner,  
  
"Sure Neville, thanks,"  
  
But Hermione's smile faded as she noticed two people standing silently at the end of the dim corridor. She halted; listening to Ron's echoing voice.  
  
"Padma," he said, "Will you come with me to Hogsmede this weekend?"  
  
Padma laughed and jumped into his arms.  
  
"Of course I will," she cried, "Oh Ronnie!"  
  
When Padma finally pulled away, Hermione watched in horror, as Ron leaned down and kissed Padma hard on the lips. It was a long kiss, a long kiss Hermione had always thought was meant for her.  
  
When Padma's lips broke away from his he opened his eyes, staring into her beautiful face.  
  
"Goodnight Ronnie," she whispered, reaching for his hand.  
  
"Goodnight Padma," he smiled back, clutching her hand even as she walked away.  
  
As her hand slipped from his like sand, he noticed movement from the adjacent hall. Hermione was standing a few feet away at the end of the short corridor, her mouth hanging open. Ron moved towards her.  
  
"Hermione?" he called.  
  
She continued to stare at him, even as Neville poked her from behind.  
  
"Hermione are you alright?" Ron asked, only feet away from her.  
  
She closed her mouth, turned around sharply and strode in the other direction heading straight for the portrait of the Fat Lady. Neville jogged along behind her.  
  
"Hermione, Neville, wait!" Ron called loudly.  
  
But it was too late, they'd already muttered the password, and slipped into the Gryffindor common room. As Ron came in front of the portrait, he caught a glimpse of Hermione, who slammed the portrait shut. He whispered the password to the Fat Lady and clambered through the hole. The common room was almost empty, and Ron noticed Hermione had already sought refuge in her favourite armchair. He couldn't help but smile as he noticed her slumped in the chair, arms folded firmly across her chest and her legs dangling over the arm.  
  
"Hermione?" he whispered quietly into the tense air.  
  
He took in a sharp inhale of breath as her eyes grew dark.  
  
"What?" she snapped, continuing to look away from him.  
  
"Are you alright?" he asked, feeling his eyebrows furrow.  
  
"So I take it this means you're going out with her?" Hermione shot at him.  
  
Ron hadn't been expecting that. He was just about to answer when he heard the portrait swing open and a few giggling girls climb through. It was Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown.  
  
"Heya Ron!" Lavender called with a wave, as she made her way to the stairs that led to her dormitory.  
  
"I ran into my sister," Parvati called, "She says you two are dating now! That's great, we're like...family!"  
  
Ron smiled sheepishly at them, as they raced giggling up the stares, and then glanced back down at Hermione. She was glaring at him.  
  
"So there we have it!" Hermione glowered her eyes flickering like fire, "Padma Patil, actually sunk her claws into Ron Weasley,"  
  
"What are you talking about Hermione?" Ron asked.  
  
"Oh don't tell me you don't know!" she cried, "Gezz, she's been talking about it since the first day back. Everyone thinks that you're good-looking now, and all the girls would die for a date with you,"  
  
"I thought that title was for pretty boys like Draco?" Ron asked, crossing his own arms.  
  
"That was last year Ron, this year its you," she crooned falsely, "You and your bloody save,"  
  
"Hey, that was a good save," Ron defended.  
  
"I am sure it was Ron, my point is, that Padma only likes you because everyone else does. She was talking about it just the other day! You're the best the school has to offer, so she wants it,"  
  
"Why do you care so much Hermione? I don't understand how you're allowed to say these things and I am not aloud to talk about Viktor,"  
  
"At least I have evidence, I mean I HEARD her say it Ron," Hermione finished.  
  
"I have evidence to." Ron insisted.  
  
"What a couple of old Witch Weekly magazines? I figured you would have learned your lesson when you read the Quibbler Ron," Hermione said irritably.  
  
"Hermione quit it," Ron snarled, "Padma told me herself she thinks I am cute and fun to be with,"  
  
"Oh don't be so naive Ron," Hermione protested, "It's not you she likes, it's your popularity!"  
  
"Hermione, it's just like you to want to bring me down, now that I have a girlfriend, now that you're not alone. You know girls can actually like me, its natural!"  
  
"Ron, she's a tramp, I mean I'm surprised she hasn't tried to get in your pants yet!"  
  
Ron paused, breathing deeply. It was true he'd already had to tell her to slow down, but what the hell did Hermione know?  
  
"Hermione you know I really don't get you," Ron told her angrily, "You get angry at me for saying bad stuff about Viktor, but you think you're allowed to have a free mouth with Padma?"  
  
"This is different Ron, because Viktor isn't a whore!" Hermione spat at him, "She doesn't like you."  
  
"Padma is not a whore Hermione, don't talk about her like that," Ron said fiercly, "And Viktor is the one who hasn't written you in God knows how long!"  
  
He watched Hermione recoil, and he knew he'd struck a nerve.  
  
"I'm only telling you the truth Ron," Hermione said quietly.  
  
"And what do you think I am saying when I talk about Viktor?"  
  
"Viktor is none of your business," Hermione said firmly.  
  
"And Padma is none of yours," Ron retorted.  
  
"Oh Ron Weasley I will never ever understand you," Hermione cried, "You know what? Do what you want! But you'll be sorry, you'll be sorry...because...because..."  
  
She couldn't finish the sentence. She couldn't tell him what she was thinking. She couldn't even believe what she was thinking never mind letting someone else hear it. Was it really true that she was jealous? Was Hermione really jealous of the kiss that Ron had just shared with Padma? She felt her breathing pick up.  
  
"Because why Hermione?"  
  
This scene seemed oddly familiar. She knew these words had been exchanged before, but yet why this time, did her heart seem to be plunging into her stomach, why were her eyes begging to fill up with tears.  
  
"Because Ron, she will never love you...the way..." Hermione blinked furiously trying to hold back her unexplained surge of emotion.  
  
"The way?" Ron narrowed his eyes, and peered closer into Hermione's face.  
  
"The way that you want her to."  
  
With that Hermione stood up and raced away from Ron, not bothering to look back. Ron sank down in the chair she'd been sitting in with a sigh. It was still warm. Why were girls so complicated? Why had Hermione been so hesitant during those last few angry sentences?  
  
Hermione made a beeline for the girls' dormitory, tears streaming down her face. She couldn't let Ron see her like this; she couldn't let him have the satisfaction. She hid just inside the doorway of the stairwell, clutching at her chest willing air to pass into her lungs. She couldn't believe what had just happened. She couldn't comprehend what it was she had finally realized.  
  
She closed her eyes as a sweat broke out on her forehead. She remembered all the countless fights over Crookshanks, her beautiful cat, and Viktor. And she thought of all the time at the Burrow and Grimauld place that she'd come so close to Ron, and felt something stirring in her mind. It all made so much sense now. She'd never even thought about it.  
  
A lump rose in her throat that she scrambled to swallow. This could not be happening. But it was. She felt her heart swell up, as she began to realize. No, it couldn't be true; she wasn't even going to begin to think of the possibilities. She was happy with Viktor, and Ron with Padma, and there was no stopping that now. Even in the magical world you couldn't mess with fate. Hermione needed to be more practical.  
  
She must just be getting emotional because of Viktor. That had to be it. She couldn't have feelings for Ron, what a joke! They were best friends, comrades. He was just another boy, just another Harry. She paused, but then why did it feel so different when she was with Ron? Hermione let out a groan. She needed to sleep. She needed to get over this fast. She was being stupid, it was impossible for her to have feelings for Ron. She couldn't have feelings for him even if she tried. She liked Viktor very much, and besides Ron didn't even have feelings for her. She didn't need to worry about anything.  
  
She took a quick glance around the corner and noticed that Ron was slumped in her favourite armchair. How could she be such a jerk, this was supposed to be a happy day, Ron had a girlfriend. Hermione sunk against the wall and closed her eyes making a decision. This was it; she was going to write to Viktor. She hastily wiped her tears and then ran up the stairs already beginning to dictate the first sentences of her letter. 


	12. Viktor's Letter

Hermione rolled over onto her back, spitting out dark bits of dirt as she did so. She sat up slowly, listening to the hissing and crackling behind her. She turned her body towards the sound and squinted at the bright blaze. There stood the crooked Burrow in a dazzling flame. Hermione gasped, and fell back as a bright jet of green issued above it, bearing a skull and snake. Hermione closed her eyes slowly letting the image of the burning Burrow sink in. She watched as countless wizards and witches, she knew must be from the Order fall at the hands of Deatheaters. She tuned the other way, wary of what she might see. Trees were burning, someone was screaming, and Ron stood all alone facing a dark shadow. Hermione searched for Harry in the darkness, but could not find him. She watched Ron shout menacingly at the dark shadow, it was the same way he had shouted at Malfoy. A loud cackle rose up from the shadow, and Hermione suddenly realized who it was. Ron stumbled back, and Hermione' fingers found her lips. She watched in horror as he sunk to his knees, a glow growing around him. She watched as he turned his face slowly; staring at a dark figure on the ground. Hermione crawled quickly over to it, and screamed as she stared down at her own pale face. How could she be in two places at once? Unless...unless it was a time- turner. And how could this other her be dead? Hermione turned and looked into Ron's shinning eyes. A fierce pain was growing in them, and the cackling was becoming louder. "Ron!" Hermione shouted crawling ferociously towards him. She crawled as fast as she could, but Ron was slipping, he was falling to the ground, the life was being sucked out of him. She could see tears slipping down his cheeks as he clutched at his chest. She kept crawling towards him, when suddenly her forehead met something hard. It seemed like there was an invisible pane of glass that had been placed between her and Ron.  
  
"RON!" she screamed, clawing at the glass trying to get through to him.  
  
He smiled sadly to the figure behind her as he fell back into the deep grass.  
  
"RON!" Hermione screamed, as she felt tears merging in her eyes, "Ron, please, no!"  
  
She scrapped her fingers against the force field trying to find a hole, trying to get to Ron, but his face was already greying. The grass in front of her crunched, and Hermione looked up with large wet eyes to come face to face with the Dark Lord.  
  
"HERMIONE!"  
  
Hermione sat straight up in bed.  
  
Ginny stood over her, reaching out and touching Hermione's shoulder.  
  
"Are you okay?" she asked.  
  
"Yes...yes, it was just another nightmare."  
  
"About Ron?" Ginny asked softly, sitting down on the end of the bed.  
  
"Why would it be about him?" Hermione said defensively.  
  
"You were muttering his name..." Ginny whispered, looking away.  
  
"Oh, well yes, he was...in it." Hermione let out, pulling her blankets up, a sudden chill settling in her bones.  
  
"Well I guess we should get ready to head to Hogsmede," Ginny sighed, changing the subject, "You are going right?"  
  
"Yes, with Neville...but I wanted to head to the Owlery before we go." Hermione told her, "Any luck with Harry?"  
  
"Nope," Ginny sighed again, looking out the window.  
  
"He'll come around Gin, don't worry about him. Are you heading to the village with Dean?"  
  
"Yea, but we're having breakfast first, I suppose it's time you got up and got dressed." Ginny laughed patting Hermione's leg.  
  
The Great Hall was littered with many happy looking students, who were wolfing down their breakfasts in order to spend the entire day at Hogsmede. Hermione smiled at the dull looking first and second years who weren't yet allowed to leave the school. She found her spot next to Harry and sat down. Harry glanced at her and smile shortly before grabbing a piece of toast and the butter. Ron didn't look up, but he did pause in his eating and take a deep breath, as if waiting for the blow from Hermione to come. When it didn't come he resumed eating. Ginny was sitting next to Ron, and was immersed as usual in a heated conversation with Dean. Hermione glanced at Neville, who was busy pouring over his Potions essay, afraid of Snape deducting marks. She watched in curiosity as Neville glanced up several times, looking straight ahead through his blond bangs. What was he looking at? Hermione turned around and craned her neck. In front of Neville sat a girl, eating eggs and taking extremely small bites.  
  
"Are you going to eat Hermione?" Harry asked quietly.  
  
"What?" Hermione asked turning back in her seat to look at him.  
  
"Food," Harry said plainly.  
  
"Right," Hermione blushed, grabbing a bowl of porridge.  
  
She ate silently, watching Harry glance at Ginny more than once between his toast. When he caught her eyes, Harry blushed, and ate the rest of his toast quickly.  
  
"Well I am off," He said to the table, with no emotion.  
  
"Wait," Ginny called, "Harry!"  
  
Harry stopped,  
  
"Aren't you going to Hogsmede?"  
  
"Yes, that's where I am headed."  
  
"Why don't you wait for the rest of us?" Hermione asked.  
  
"No that's okay; I will just head there now."  
  
With that he turned and exited the hall silently.  
  
Hermione, along with the others let out a sigh, and turned back to her food. The sudden screech of owls made Hermione and Neville jump. Hermione watched again as a long trail of orange pumpkin juice made its way down the table from Neville's spilt cup.  
  
"Scourjify!" Hermione commanded pointing her wand at the mess.  
  
A brief flutter of wings obscured her vision before a large familiar tawny owl landed in front of her. It was Viktor Krum's owl.  
  
Hermione gasped, dropping her wand with a clatter. Viktor's owl hooted expectantly, and nipped her finger affectionately. Hermione reached towards him with trembling hands, and carefully undid the leather binds. She pulled out a fresh rolled piece of yellow parchment, and then patted the owl on the head. It was only a few minutes before the beautiful bird took off, leaving Hermione sitting silently staring at the letter.  
  
"Who's that from?" Ron asked angrily picking feathers off of his breakfast.  
  
"Viktor," Hermione said wistfully, gathering her cloak in one hand and holding the letter tight in her other.  
  
"Open it!" Ginny chimed.  
  
Hermione carefully broke the seal, and slowly unrolled the parchment, nervous of what the letter might say. She read it over quickly, it was short.  
  
My dear Hermione  
  
I am sorry that I haven't written to you in a while. I was very busy with Quidditch practice, and my mothers 64th birthday. I hope that you have been well. I wanted to surprise you with a visit, so you should expect to see me in Hogsmede today. Your friend, (Ronald's sister I think) wrote to me and told me that you were upset. I had thought I'd written to you to tell you it would be a while until you would hear from me again, but I suppose being me, I forgot to do it. I am sorry. Hopefully I can make it up to you when I see you in Hogsmede.  
  
All my love,  
  
Viktor  
  
Hermione sighed, and passed the letter to Ginny, who smiled sheepishly at Hermione's questioning stare.  
  
"I thought I would write him, and tell him that you were upset, that way there you didn't look desperate, or dependant, and I knew it would make you happy. Aren't you glad you never listened to Luna now? He did have good reason for not writing to you, he thought he'd told you!" Ginny explained.  
  
"I better go get ready for him!" Hermione giggled, before getting up quickly and racing out of the Great Hall.  
  
Ginny laughed at loud at the happy sight of her friend, but her smile dropped when she caught Ron's face. He had snatched up the forgotten letter.  
  
"Don't you see that Krum's lying? What a lame excuse, his mom's birthday? So he couldn't write down a few letters on a piece of paper? Must be pretty thick!" Ron muttered.  
  
"No Ron, You're the thick one! Don't you dare say anything to Hermione, do you hear me? Because she is happy, and she deserves to be, whether you like it or not!"  
  
Ron glared at his sister, pushing his breakfast plate away.  
  
"Come on Gin, let's head to Hogsmede," Dean whispered, and Ginny got up leaving the Great Hall angrily.  
  
"Wow, what a morning huh?" Neville questioned, sliding down the bench towards Ron.  
  
"Yes, yes it is, first Harry leaves, that Krum writes, and then my sister bites my head off! I swear she must've token a load off Mum this summer!" Ron groaned.  
  
"I agree with you, you know that Ron?" Neville squeaked, "My Gran has always said that Viktor Krum was a bad cauldron."  
  
"Yea, you told me before," Ron sighed, "Hey Nev, you heading to Hogsmede?"  
  
"Well I was supposed to head there with Hermione," Neville explained, a dark look passed over his face for but a second, "But now I suppose she is going to meet Viktor,"  
  
"Yes...Krum..." Ron said moodily.  
  
"Ron you don't like Hermione do you?" Neville asked.  
  
"No, haven't you heard? I am dating Padma Patil," Ron said dully.  
  
"You don't sound so excited," Neville told him.  
  
"I am, she's great, she beautiful," Ron said, looking across the Great Hall at her, she caught his eye and waved.  
  
Padma jumped up, and raced over to the Gryffindor table.  
  
"Hey Ronnie," she cried, leaning across Hermione's discarded breakfast for a kiss.  
  
Ron locked lips with her for a second, before she pulled away.  
  
"Are you ready to head into Hogsmede?" she asked cheerfully.  
  
"I am ready whenever you are!" Ron smiled.  
  
Ron's stomach growled. The happiness that coursed between them was almost sickening. He really didn't want to go to Hogsmede so that he could watch Hermione be played by Viktor, but he couldn't let Padma down.  
  
"Oh, I can't wait to show you off," Padma cooed, pinching his cheek.  
  
Ron winced, his eyebrows knitting; boy Padma sure knew how to make a guy uncomfortable. But what had she said? Show him off. Ron smiled; he liked the sounds of that. In fact, why wasn't he showing her off? If Hermione could run off into Hogsmede with Viktor Krum, then Ron would prove to Hermione that Padma wasn't half as bad as she said she was! He would show Padma off – to Hermione.  
  
"Well," Ron said, feeling as though Padma stood in new light, "Let's go!"  
  
He walked around and grabbed her arm awkwardly.  
  
"Coming Neville?"  
  
Harry let the heavy pink door of Honeydukes slam behind him. There he was done his doggy work. He was finished with his important errand of retrieving sweets for the dear old Headmaster. He wandered down the loud student-infested streets of Hogsmede so silently that some of the locals began to look at him funny. He gripped the brown paper bag containing the lemon candies with such a firm grip he could hear the paper grinding together, even amongst the commotion. He felt bad that he had left his friends at the table this morning. He knew that they would be more worried about him. He felt anger bubble in his stomach. The heat was rising. Why did everyone have to be so concerned? Why couldn't they just let him be? He supposed it served them right that he had got up and left. He wouldn't have, if only Ginny hadn't been sitting across from him looking more beautiful than ever. Looking stronger than he knew she was. He knew she was trying to prove to him that she didn't need his friendship to be herself. He knew that she was trying to make him feel guilty about blowing her off, trying to give him a taste of his own putrid medicine. The thing that Harry was trying to accept was the fact that it had worked. He didn't want to accept the fact that he could smell her flower scented perfume from across the table, he didn't want to accept that he was so caught up in her perfect green eyes, or that he had found himself staring, mesmerized by her perfect peach lips. He couldn't accept that she'd called after him so desperately. He couldn't accept it; He mustn't.  
  
He was so deep in thought, that he didn't even realize that he had turned automatically in the direction of the Three Broomsticks. Nobody looked up when he entered, nobody could hear. The small pub was bursting with costumers. A few locals sat around the bar on well worn dragon hide stools. Student loomed in every corner at every table. A loud crash made Harry jolt alive from the darkness of his mind. He turned towards that sound and saw Neville Longbottom sprawled out on the floor beside a soaking wet Madam Rosemerta.  
  
"Oh, Madam, please forgive me, I've got to watch where I am going." Neville sputtered, as Rosemerta looked simply horrified at the state of her robes.  
  
"What were you staring at so intently boy?" She demanded, getting up of the floor and drying her robes with her wand.  
  
The butterbeer stains remained.  
  
"N-nothing ma'am," Neville said faintly, "I am just clumsy."  
  
Rosmerta threw him a withering glance before repairing the broken pitcher with a soft incantation and a swish of her cherry wood wand.  
  
Neville was left in her wake, looking very displeased with himself. Harry watched as he slowly closed his eyes, and pulled at the edges of his robe. He looked very nervous. What could be making Neville nervous? Harry glanced around the stuffed pub for emerald robes and a stuffed vulture but gave up with no luck. He glanced back to where Neville was and was surprised to find him gone. Harry let out a sigh, and made his way to the bar. He threw the paper bag onto the counter, and sat down heavily.  
  
"What would you like m'dear?" Rosmerta chimed without even looking over at him.  
  
"Butterbeer please," Harry muttered.  
  
While he was waiting, Harry ran a hand through his hair, scratching at the back of his neck. He felt eyes on him, but refused to find out who was staring at him.  
  
"Here you are, sorry about the wait, I had to open a new – Oh it's you!" Rosmerta exclaimed, "Well how are you then Harry?"  
  
He winced as she said his name, several locals turned to look at him.  
  
"I am fine Madam Rosmerta, how are you?" Harry asked, not really wanting to sit around a play small-talk.  
  
"Oh, good, good...Say, where's your friends...oop, nevermind, I saw the bushy haired girl come in a little while ago. And the tall boy, the Weasley, he is in here to."  
  
Harry's ears perked up at the mention of his friends, but he didn't have the heart to search them out, so instead he smiled politely and took a swig of his butterbeer. The warm liquid seemed to have no effect on him. The bell on the door rang and Harry turned to see who might be coming in. For weeks after, he regretted doing so. Ginny Weasley walked in, her hand intertwined with Dean Thomas.  
  
He wished she'd open up her pretty green eyes and notice that Dean was looking at every girl that walked passed. He wished she'd realize that Dean didn't love her. He wished she'd realize that she never laughed when she was around him the way she did when she was beside Harry. Dean didn't become soft and docile around her the way Harry did. Even when they touched it didn't seem as affectionate or effective the way that it seemed when Ginny and Harry touched, and he was her boyfriend for Merlin's sake!  
  
She was laughing, Harry watched her cheeks lift, her eyes sparkle. He watched her carefully as she playfully pushed at Dean's shoulder. His deep eyes followed her as she sat down across from Dean, as she ordered her drink, as she sipped at it slowly. Even though he knew he must protect her from himself, something inside of him prayed that he would notice the sad look in his eyes. Something inside of him prayed that she would realize he loved her. And she answered his prayers when she caught his eyes in hers. It was then that Harry knew that he'd fallen too far, much too far. 


	13. The Three Broomsticks

The students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry always chose the seats the farthest away from the door of the Three Broomsticks. Perhaps the seats at the back were more comfortable, maybe they preferred the dark dim corners, but the more probable reason would be that it was the only place that was out of ear shot of the teachers who usually sat around the bar counter. By the time that Hermione arrived at the Hogshead, all of the dim corner tables at the back were gone. She let out a sigh and took a seat near the front. She reached her hand up into her curly hair while she looked around nervously for Viktor. Her stomach clenched every time the bells that hung from the door rang. She had a bad feeling about this meeting with Viktor. Ever since she had left the table at breakfast she'd been rethinking what Viktor had written in his letter. Had he ever been absent minded before? She could remember times that he'd been busy with Quidditch finals and yet he'd still found the time to write a few words to her. She felt her stomach tie into a knot yet again as the bells of the door rang. He had arrived.  
  
Although it hadn't been that long since she'd last seen him, he was different. He still stood as tall as ever, with his dark thick eyebrows knit in concentration as she watched him search for her. She felt his deep eyes fall on her after a few second. Normally this sensation made her feel warm, but she felt very uncomfortable. She stood quickly, banging her knees on the table, anticipating his embrace. She was so afraid that it would be different as well. When he reached her she felt his eyes rake over her before he wrapped his arms around her.  
  
"Herm-ioh-ninny," he whispered into her ear pulling her closer.  
  
She smiled at the sound of his accent whispering her miss-pronounced name.  
  
He finally pulled away but held onto her shoulders, staring deeply into her eyes. They were so intense. Hermione closed her eyes as he leaned forward and crushed her mouth with his own lips. The kiss was quick and distant. When their lips parted, Hermione heard herself sigh. She had missed his kiss. He sat down across from her.  
  
"So how have you been?" she asked casually.  
  
"Good...busy," he responded reaching up into his dark hair and glancing towards the door. He turned towards her, and smiled sadly, "I am sorry I never zent you zee letter, I vas sure dat I had."  
  
"It's alright," Hermione told him quietly.  
  
She felt the familiar clench of her stomach as the bells hanging on the door rang yet again. She looked to the door and watched in horror and Ron and Padma made their way towards the last table at the front of the pub. It was but feet from Hermione's and Viktor's.  
  
"Vat about you? Has Ronald and Harry been taking care of you?"  
  
Hermione had heard this comment before, but this was different, this time the jealousness was gone.  
  
"Yes, well you know Harry hasn't been too happy lately, but I think he fancies Ginny right now anyways. Why just this morning I caught him staring at her..." Hermione smiled.  
  
"And zis...does not upset you?" Viktor asked looking almost disappointed.  
  
"Upset me?" Hermione asked incredulously, "Oh Viktor, you know I don't have feeling for Harry. Of course it doesn't upset me. In fact I am glad. I think that Ginny and Harry need each other more than they are willing to admit."  
  
Viktor nodded, as Madam Rosemerta appeared at their side, waiting for their order.  
  
"Two of zee butterbeers please," Viktor said.  
  
Rosemerta smiled at his thick accent, "I'll bring them right away dears."  
  
The break in their conversation gave Hermione a chance to glance towards Ron's table. He couldn't be sitting closer to Padma if he tried. Hermione watched in disgust as Padma smiled bashfully, and then reached up to brush a few of Ron's stray strands away from his face. Madam Rosemerta interrupted Hermione's thoughts when she clanked the two mugs down onto the wooden table.  
  
"Enjoy,"  
  
"Thanks Madam," Viktor replied looking intently at Hermione. "So vat about Ronald?"  
  
"Ron?" Hermione asked as sweat broke out into the palms of her hands. She gripped her butter beer mug tightly, "Viktor, don't you realize that I only have feelings for you?"  
  
She watched his face contort. He seemed to be mixed between relief and pain.  
  
"Do you mean zat?" he asked sullenly.  
  
"Of course Viktor," Hermione insisted, glancing again towards Ron's table.  
  
She watched him lean across to Padma and plant a kiss on her cheek. Padma turned towards him and within moments they were full on kissing.  
  
"Hermione, vhy are you going all red." Viktor asked suddenly, "Do you really care for me still?"  
  
"Yes, yes, I promise, look it's just warm in here." Hermione insisted, taking a couple of deep breaths.  
  
What was going on? Why was Ron having such an effect on her? She gripped her mug even tighter.  
  
"Why are you so worried?" She asked him.  
  
"I am not, its just...vell..." he stuttered.  
  
"Hello!" Ron's voice sounded.  
  
Hermione jumped so suddenly she nearly spilt her butter beer.  
  
"Ron!" she cried.  
  
"Ronald, hello, how are you?" Viktor asked.  
  
"Good, good," Ron muttered, pulling a chair over so that Padma could sit down.  
  
After she was situated, Ron pulled a chair over for himself, "I almost didn't notice the two of you sitting her, but when I did, I just couldn't help but come over to say hello," Ron said cheerfully.  
  
Hermione put her head in her hands, and stared down at the table, aware of Viktor's gaze that rested on her.  
  
"Oh I am sorry mate; this here is my girlfriend Padma!" Ron introduced, "Padma, this here is Viktor Krum, plays in the World Cup, he is also Hermione's boyfriend."  
  
"You are Hermione's boyfriend? The one that visited Ron's house during the summer?" Padma asked.  
  
"Umm....yes." Viktor replied, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.  
  
Hermione groaned inwardly.  
  
"Yes, Viktor visited my house many times in the summer," Ron continued, "You know, I was meaning to ask you, I read an interesting article in a magazine a little while ago, it was something about a new girlfriend you've got in the United Sates,"  
  
"Ron!" Hermione cried fiercely.  
  
"Ronald, you don't really believe zose tabloids do you?" Viktor replied quickly, "Zey alvays come up with things zat aren't true about me."  
  
"Yea, I didn't want to believe what it said, I mean how could I believe, what with you and Hermione being in love and all..."  
  
"Love?" Viktor asked, going very pale.  
  
"Ron," Hermione hissed, "I think it's time you leave."  
  
"Leave? We just started talking Hermione," Ron said crossly, "Yes love, Hermione was on about it all summer, that why she has been so upset lately...what with you not writing to her..."  
  
Hermione stopped listening. All of the fronts that she had put up, all the attempts at trying not to seem dependant were being torn apart by each word that Ron said. With every sentence he pushed her down, made her smaller, made her that little girl that everyone had to protect, made her that little girl that couldn't handle anything. "It vasn't that long vas it?" Viktor asked.  
  
"No, that's what Harry and I tried to tell her, A couple of weeks without hearing from you isn't a big deal, but she was in a right state, I guess that's what happens when you fall in love though," Ron smiled across the table to Padma.  
  
He was destroying everything. He was ruining it all, she didn't want to be that little girl, she wanted to be strong, to have nerve. She looked up, Viktor was staring at her with a mixture of disbelief and horror in his eyes. He wouldn't want to see her again, not now that he knew that she could barely survive without a letter from him. She felt hot tears surface in the corners of her eyes, and she knew they were all staring at her. She could hear Padma chuckling under her breath, but why wouldn't she be?. Now, now that she thought about it, she'd been acting really pathetic. Viktor hadn't written to her in a couple of weeks, big deal, he had been busy, he had had other things to do, and he didn't need her to survive.  
  
She couldn't stand sitting there anymore, watching everyone look down on her like a little girl who couldn't reach the cookie jar. She stood up so fast that she hit her already bruised knees again against the table. For once she was glad that they had sat near the front. It made exiting so much easier. She ran out the door, and stopped a few feet away, her head in her heads, her long hair hanging forward. What was she doing? She was Hermione Granger, she had let Ron make her become even smaller. She was running away from a simple situation. It wasn't that big of a deal. Where was the calm, logic practical Hermione Granger that she was used to? Was running away practical? No! She felt self-frusteration build up inside her throat.  
  
"Hermione!" Ron called.  
  
He had joined her outside, the streets were milling with other students but he could see her standing at the end of the sidewalk. He took a few cautious steps towards her, very aware that he was inches away from being hexed to death.  
  
"Hermione?" he called again as he came closer.  
  
She reached up and wiped away tears that he knew she didn't want him to see. When she turned around, her lips formed a straight line, her eyes were red from unshed tears, but he could see the anger in them. "Why did you do that?" She asked.  
  
Her voice was steady and calm, it was almost unnatural.  
  
"Do what?" Ron asked stupidly, blinking the sunlight from his eyes.  
  
"Embarrass me like that Ron, you made me sound like love-sick little girl," Hermione said, a bit louder, and a bit angrier.  
  
"Embarrass you? I thought you said you loved him? How is that embarrassing?"  
  
"I don't love Viktor Ron," Hermione cried.  
  
"You told me you did, I was just..."  
  
"Making me seem like a little girl who is incapable of dealing with her own emotions just because her boyfriend didn't write her for a couple of weeks."  
  
"Well, you have been upset, I was just..."  
  
"Did it ever occur to you that maybe Viktor WAS NOT the reason that I was upset?"  
  
"No, I just..."  
  
"God, you are so stupid sometimes Ron, How am I supposed to go back in there and face him?"  
  
"Hermione would you listen..."  
  
"I can not believe you, what is with you? Can you not just leave me alone?"  
  
"Hermione!" Ron raised his voice.  
  
Hermione turned around, not able to look at him anymore, she began walking away.  
  
"Hermione, listen to me,"  
  
"Go to hell Ron," she yelled, not turning around, "And make sure you take your horribly fake girlfriend with you!" 


	14. Haunted

Harry arrived back at the castle far before any others did. He had drunk his butter beer as quickly as he could and left the bar, not able to watch Ginny with Dean. She had caught his eyes many times, and he knew that she was aware that he was staring at her. For some reason, he did not care. He had watched as Dean grew impatient with her lack of attention, and that was when Harry made his exit. He felt so torn inside, trying to hide from Ginny all that he felt, but yet he was so utterly unable to do so. He never knew that a woman could make him feel this way. He wondered vaguely if his mother had made his father feel this way? He wished he could tell her, he wished he could hold her, kiss her, and make her realize how wonderful she was, how beautiful she was. He wished he could let her feel some of the emotion that was gathering inside him as he sat alone in the Gryffindor common room right now. He glanced outside at the graying clouds. He thought longingly of his Firebolt, and decided that it was time for a release.  
  
Ginny sat on a plush couch in the Gryffindor common room surrounded by silence and solitude. It was but an hour since Harry had sat in the same spot but she was unaware of time, she was only aware of the tightness in her chest and the familiar dull ache in the back of her head. Dark memories which were once lost had been found all over again, and as she sat in her own darkness images of Tom Riddle flashed through her mind. Tears fell down her pale cheeks. There was no one to talk to, nobody to see. There was nobody to hear, to touch. She was alone again – alone with Tom Riddle.  
  
Dean had let go of her. Things just hadn't worked out. She was distant, he was too close. They could never get it right. Ginny wasn't surprised. She never opened her heart. She'd done it once before, she fed all of her secrets and love into one person, one man whom she'd cared so deeply about. He'd thrown it all back in her face. The pages of her diary had become wet with the tears she'd cried for him, all alone in the darkness. She'd needed Dean to overshadow the dark presence that lived inside of her. She'd needed a man to overpower Tom, and Tom's willingness. Dean had had charm, the same charm the Tom had had. Ginny couldn't live with that. It had been the same with Michael Corner as well; a temporary fix. Like a bandage over a deep wound that would never heal. Some cuts ran too deep, touching too much of her fragile mind. Tom had poisoned her, and there was no antidote. She was like a single delicate rose, so pretty and innocent on her own, yet covered with sores and thorns that he'd put there; distant from the world, so far away from peace, and so close to suffrage. He'd corrupted her mind, taken over her body and was never to leave. As long as Lord Voldemort was breathing Tom Riddle would be alive inside of her.  
  
Ginny let her head fall back against the couch. She could feel it building up inside of her. Too much was happening at once. She needed a release. Where was Harry when she needed him? Where was Ron? Hermione? Ginny was ashamed, how could she fall in love with her best friend? She wasn't good enough for him, she wasn't what he needed. He needed somebody to be strong, strong enough to hold him high, and she couldn't be that person. She wasn't even strong enough to fight off the memories of Tom Riddle.  
  
Ginny stood up, and walked towards the window. As she looked out of the cool glass, she noticed the grey and purple clouds that rolled in, hanging low in the sky. A soft wind was blowing through the trees that stood by the lake, and a misty rain obscured her vision of the quidditch pitch. She paused at the quidditch pitch. What a wonderful way to blow off some steam.  
  
When Ginny made it outside, she pulled her cloak more tightly around her and ran to the broom shed to find a decent broom. When she emerged she faced the stormy weather with a set face. The wind wrapped around her grasping at her loose hair and billowing robes. As her hair flicked around her, she stared up at the pitch. The tall white hoops stood tall and proud, the stands rested silently at the sides. She marched onto the pitch letting the wind carry her. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the rain that fell onto her face, suddenly feeling alive. Lightening flickered in the distance, and the rolling boom brought her back to reality. She opened her eyes, and squinted as she noticed a small bright spot against the ashen clouds. She shielded her green eyes from the rain and wind and concentrated on the moving spot. The Firebolt gleamed in the darkness as a lightening bolt struck the ground just beyond the castle. What was Harry doing out here?  
  
"Harry?" she called to him, but the sound of her voice was carried away with the wind.  
  
He flipped and tumbled and spiraled through the eclectically charged air with ease. As he got lower, Ginny smiled at his windblown hair, and deep concentrated eyes. He didn't notice her standing feet below him. He turned the broom with skill, and dove straight down towards the ground gaining speed. He pulled up out of his Wronski Feint right before he hit the ground. A grin filled Ginny's face. Harry however was not smiling; his eyes were clamped shut, the corners of his mouth turned down. She'd seen this face before. What was wrong? Harry continued to escalate into the sky. He rose about fifty feet before coming to a complete stop. He stayed for only a moment, and Ginny let out a gasp as she watched Harry arch his back and let go of his broom, throwing himself into the free air. He was falling, hurtling towards the earth, his broom still stationary fifty feet above them. His robes flapped in the wind, his eyes remained shut, and he neared the ground. Ginny felt her heart hit the bottom of her stomach before it jumped to her throat. Harry Potter the strongest person she knew was killing himself? And she was his only audience.  
  
"Harry!" she screamed, her chest tightening once more.  
  
Harry opened his eyes, only a few feet from the ground. She watched his face contort with concentration. It seemed almost painful. Suddenly there was change in the wind, a sudden movement of air. The Firebolt came racing towards him. It wasn't moving fast enough. He was going to hit the ground. Ginny screamed, and seconds before Harry hit the ground his Firebolt fell just under him, breaking his fall.  
  
Ginny fell to the muddy ground gasping for air. Her body trembled with unshed fear. Harry's broom carried him the rest of the way to the ground, and he got off calmly. She remained silent crying softly into her hands. How much more could she take? First Dean then Harry! The one person she'd been counting on. Part of her wanted to jump onto the Firebolt and hurtle her self to the ground just as he'd attempted.  
  
"Ginny," Harry said softly.  
  
She could barely hear him over the roar of the wind.  
  
"Ginny," he repeated, and she felt his hand on her shoulder.  
  
She turned her body to stare up at him.  
  
"What the hell were you doing?" she cried, struggling to stand on her feet.  
  
"Ginny," he whispered.  
  
She'd never seen his face so pale, and his eyes so cloudy. An anger rose up in her as she'd never felt. How could he be so stupid? How could he scare her like that? He was supposed to be strong!  
  
She stepped towards him and beat her fists against his chest.  
  
"What were you doing?" she raged, "Why Harry? WHY?"  
  
"Gin,"  
  
A sob escaped her throat.  
  
"Why?" she moaned, falling into him, her tears mixing with the beating rain.  
  
She felt his arms fall around her, and she cried into his chest for many long moments, releasing all the emotion she felt. When she finally pulled away, a sense of calmness passed through her.  
  
"Oh Ginny," Harry whispered, the wind tousling his hair, "I am so sorry,"  
  
"Harry why were you up there?" she asked, staring into his green eyes, "Don't you understand?"  
  
Harry stared at her blankly,  
  
"I need you," she cried, "I need you to be strong for me, I need you to be you, I need you so much,"  
  
"Ginny," Harry whispered again, "I was just flying."  
  
"No, no you were leaving me!"  
  
"Ginny,"  
  
"Don't you understand Harry?" she yelled at him, "Don't leave me here! Don't leave me here alone!"  
  
"Ginny, please,"  
  
"Can't you see that I care about you?"  
  
"I know you do," Harry told her, pulling her close, and resting his chin on her head.  
  
"Promise me," she sobbed, "Promise me never again,"  
  
"I promise," Harry whispered trying to calm her.  
  
"Harry," she told him, "I know what it's like to fall."  
  
"You don't," he said looking away, "You have no idea,"  
  
"I do," Ginny told him, turning his chin so he'd face her, "I'm falling for you,"  
  
His arms loosened around her, and he stepped back.  
  
"Your not," he whispered, and she watched his eyes grow wide.  
  
She nodded he head, and her damp hair whipped in the wind. Suddenly her heart plunged again. He cared for her too, didn't he? She hadn't even thought about it?  
  
"What about Dean?" Harry asked, "What about Dean Thomas?"  
  
"We broke up," Ginny said quietly into the wind.  
  
"Why?" Harry cried.  
  
"He was upset, he said I always seem too distant, he said that he knows that I am in love with someone else, he said he could see it in my eyes."  
  
"Gin," Harry muttered.  
  
"Don't you see it Harry? Don't you understand that I love you?"  
  
"Ginny..." Harry pleaded, "Don't do this to me,"  
  
"You care about me to, don't you Harry?" Her voice rose, "Don't you?"  
  
Harry stared at her for what seemed an eternity. She stepped towards him, needing to feel his touch, needing to be in his arms.  
  
"Please don't leave me Harry," she whispered, "Tell me you care about me, please"  
  
He reached out and touched her face,  
  
"I can't Ginny, I just can't,"  
  
Harry watched with a sinking feeling as tears pooled in Ginny's eyes. She'd thought he was about to kill himself, and the disappointment in her eyes was killing him. He'd just wanted to feel the rush, the rush of falling. He needed to know that he was still alive, because there was no one to tell him now. But when she was in his arms, he felt life surge through his whole body, when she was in his arms he knew he was going to make it through the pain that tormented him. There was only one problem, he couldn't let that happen. He could not care for Ginny; he did not want her to be hurt. He couldn't let her care for him, and as much as it hurt him inside, as much as he wanted to tell her he cared about her, needed her just as she needed him, Harry remained silent.  
  
"Why?" she sniffed.  
  
He let his eyes fall, hearing her gasp through a sob, feeling ashamed of how he was making her feel.  
  
He had to.  
  
"I was so sure...Harry, I was so sure you cared for me," she cried into the howling night, "I need you...please don't do this to me,"  
  
He felt his throat tighten; he let his arms fall from around her.  
  
"Harry," she choked.  
  
He watched sadly, as all life seemed to suck out of her. His heart tore inside of his chest as he listened to her sob; he couldn't stand her and watch her curl up. He couldn't stand here and watch as he broke her heart.  
  
"I am sorry," he muttered, before picking his Firebolt up and heading back towards the castle with his head hanging low.  
  
And as Ginny sat there in the wet grass, pouring her heart out onto her sleeves yet again she heard the familiar laugh of a young sixteen year old man.  
  
Long lost words whisper slowly to me Still can't find what keeps me here When all this time I've been so hollow inside I know you're alive Watching me Wanting me I can feel you pull me down Fearing you Loving you I won't let you pull me down  
  
Haunting you, I can smell you alive Your heart pounding in my head  
  
Watching me Wanting me I can feel you pull me down Saving me Raping me Watching me 


	15. Missing

Hey guys, Sorry about the wait,  
  
I am trying to get chapters up as fast as I can, and its sorta working..lol. I want to thank everyone for their fabulous reviews! It makes me feel so good. I started writing this story a while ago, and then I revised it, and now its just growing so wonderfully. It's amazing really. This chapter is not completed quite yet, but I wanted to post it up to make u guys happy, since I know I am gonna be busy for a while, and prolly won't be able to finish it for a bit. So just keep checking back for more..okay? Thanks so much!! Much love, jaimi  
  
Hermione felt a soft poke in her side. She stirred, wanting to stay in her wondrous dream. The dream in which Ron hadn't embarrassed her in front of Viktor, the dream in which she hadn't run away like a coward. The dream where Viktor hadn't left looking disgruntled upset and horrified. But it had all happened. She felt the light poke again and finally gave in to opening her eyes. She found her self wincing from the bright light issuing from the fireplace. She must have fallen asleep in the common room. Once Hermione's eyes focused, she realized that a timid looking Gryffindor was standing beside her.  
  
"Sorry, just off to bed, thanks for waking me," Hermione muttered, making her way towards the Girls' staircase.  
  
"Hermione....Hermione Granger?"  
  
It was more of a question, an uncertainty that made Hermione's brain tingle. There was distress in the girl's voice.  
  
"Yes?" she prompted the girl, stepping closer to her.  
  
"Well, you're a prefect, and...well I thought you should know..."  
  
"What is it?" Hermione asked, her voice demanding.  
  
"Well, Ginny Weasley is missing."  
  
Hermione blinked several times trying to make sense of what this girl had said.  
  
"Ginny?" she breathed, "Ginny's missing?"  
  
"She didn't come up to bed, and it's nearly one o'clock in the morning," the girl told her wringing her hands nervously.  
  
"What about the loo, did you check the loo?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Yes, she isn't there," the girl cried.  
  
Hermione's heart began to leap. She'd been waiting for the day when odd disappearances would begin to happen. She'd been waiting for Voldemort to strike again; she just never thought it would begin with Ginny. She heard her own breath start coming out in gasps. She needed to remain calm. There was a logical explanation to everything. She just hoped the explanation wasn't Voldemort and his Deatheaters – like Malfoy. When Hermione thought of him as a possibility, she gasped loudly and stumbled back. She shook her head, remembering the dark corridor, the taste of blood in her mouth, the pounding headache and Ron's deep voice.  
  
"No," she said out loud, shaking her head.  
  
There had to be a better explanation. Perhaps Ginny was still with Dean. There was only one way to find out.  
  
"Go back to bed," she told the girl, "I will find Ginny, don't worry."  
  
The girl nodded, and made her way slowly back up the steps.  
  
As soon as Hermione knew she was gone, she dashed as fast as she could across the common room, and up the boys' stairs. She counted the doors, as she ran quickly. Finally she stopped at the right door. She listened. It was quiet. She took a deep breath and slowly turned the door handle. She winced as it creaked loudly.  
  
"Lumos," she heard Harry mutter.  
  
She watched his shadow reach up and pull back the scarlet hangings from around his bed, and point his wand cautiously at the door. Hermione froze.  
  
"Harry," she hissed, "It's just me."  
  
"What are you doing here?" he asked lowering his wand.  
  
"Why are you pointing your wand at people who come through the door? What if it was one of your dorm mates?" Hermione asked walking towards him.  
  
"They are all here," he told her, motioning to the other beds.  
  
Across from him, Neville was lying on his stomach snoring softly. Beside that Dean Thomas was murmuring, Seamus was smiling and brushing his face as if something were tickling it, and finally Hermione's eyes rested on Ron, who's left arm and right leg were over hanging the bed. He snored contently into his large pile of drool.  
  
She glanced at Harry worriedly, it had seemed like he'd been expecting somebody to burst through the door. She stared into his eyes, and her worst fear was confirmed. He was waiting for Voldemort to.  
  
"Harry...have you had any dreams lately?" she asked awkwardly.  
  
He groaned, and turned away from her. Immediately she felt guilty. She knew how he must feel, everyone watching him, looking to him for answers about Voldemort.  
  
"If you came up here to use me as your personal radar device Hermione, then I think you should go back to bed," he said coldly.  
  
"Harry," Hermione whimpered, looking at Dean in his deep slumber, "Ginny's missing."  
  
Harry stared up at her from his bed, what had she just said? He stood up quickly,  
  
"What?" he cried, she tried to sush him but he continued, "What do you mean?"  
  
"She didn't come to bed Harry," Hermione whispered, glancing nervously around the room.  
  
Harry felt his heart plunge. He had found out. He must have. He let his face fall as guilt ripped through him. It was a familiar painful guilt that he felt every time he passed a Hufflepuff in the hall, every time he passed the secret passage to the Whomping Willow, or rummaged through his trunk and came across the broken mirror. Except this time, it was much worse. This time his heart cried out more loudly than it ever had. He hadn't loved Cedric, and his love for Sirius was nothing like the way he felt for Ginny. Harry cried out in frustration, and all he could think about was her face, and the tears that he had seen her cry, knowing that she thought he didn't love her, when it was practically the only thing he could feel anymore. She was the only part of him that hadn't gone numb with pain and hatred. He knew he should have told her how he felt, but this was exactly the reason why he didn't want to. He didn't want him to find out. He didn't want Voldemort to go after her. She was innocent, beautiful and important. She was everything Harry needed, but couldn't have, and he knew that Voldemort would go to any lengths to get rid of her.  
  
"Harry," Hermione whispered once again placing a hand on his arm, "She could still be in the castle, this may not mean what we think it does."  
  
Hermione was thinking the same thing? He looked up at her.  
  
"There has to be a logical explanation Harry, give me the invisibility cloak and I will go look around for her," Hermione told him.  
  
"I am coming with you," Harry insisted.  
  
"No!" Hermione said loudly.  
  
He glared at her.  
  
"Voldemort knows that you love to play the hero Harry, and I am not trying to discredit you, but I care about you as much as a care for Ginny, and I can't let you go walking into another trap."  
  
"Hermione I can't let you go alone either, you're not pure blooded, why, Voldemort would love to get his hands on you."  
  
"Can you two please stop bickering," Ron muttered, sitting up slowly and rubbing his temples.  
  
Suddenly his eyes popped open.  
  
"Hermione?" he cried as the realization struck, "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Harry you're not going," Hermione insisted, reaching for his trunk.  
  
"Who are you to tell me?" Harry asked his eyes narrowing as he caught her hand before she reached the trunk.  
  
"I am your friend Harry, and I am more rational than you. Doesn't this remind you a lot of...last year?"  
  
"I do not care, he can kill me if he wants to Hermione, but I need to make sure she is safe...I can't have another person dying because of me."  
  
"Harry it's not your fault that Sirius and Cedric died! Why can't you just understand that? And if...if Voldemort does have Ginny, it's not your fault either. You can't let him kill you, I won't let him kill you or her, I am smart, and I am strong, I can find her, okay?"  
  
"No, you're not strong enough for him," Harry told her.  
  
"Can somebody please explain to me why Hermione is here in the middle of the night, having an argument with you?" Ron asked.  
  
"Just stay!" Hermione said firmly.  
  
"No!"  
  
"Why can't you just let me find her?"  
  
"Because, it's to dangerous for you to go on your own,"  
  
"But it's not dangerous for you to go on your own?"  
  
"No, that's not it Hermione,"  
  
"Well then please Harry, enlighten me, why is it that it's okay for you to walk into a death trap, but I can't?"  
  
"Guys this is the most bizarre conversation I've ever heard!" Ron cried.  
  
They still ignored him.  
  
"Because Hermione, this is my fault, and my problem,"  
  
"How? She is my friend to Harry."  
  
"Because Hermione, I fell in love with her," Harry cried angrily.  
  
As soon as he said it, he wished he hadn't. Hermione's eyes filled with understanding. He knew she was working it out. Working out that it was his entire fault, because he loved Ginny. He looked to the floor feeling her eyes wash over him. He didn't want to look Ron's way either.  
  
"Harry..." she whispered.  
  
"CAN SOMEBODY PLEASE TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON?" Ron yelled.  
  
"SHHHH!" Harry and Hermione both hissed.  
  
"Look Hermione, someone needs to go find her now, every second that we waste, could be a second to late."  
  
"Let's go together then."  
  
Harry reached for the trunk with his numbing fingers. He rummaged around and saw his pale face and startling green eyes reflecting back at him from a piece of broken mirror. He felt his throat tighten. He swallowed the lump down quickly, and tugged on his invisibility cloak. He felt Hermione close her hand around his, and she gave it a light squeeze. He looked up at her, allowing the tears of anger, hatred and fear come to the surface. He was so afraid. He was so afraid of fear.  
  
"We'll find her," Hermione whispered, with a forced smile, "I promise,"  
  
"Don't make promises that you cannot keep," Harry said dryly.  
  
With that he pulled the invisibility cloak around the two of them, shoved his wand in his back pocket and began to make his way to the door.  
  
"Wait just a second!" Ron cried, jumping out of bed and grabbing his wand, "Who's missing?"  
  
Harry watched Hermione close her eyes slowly, and bite her lip. She reached for the edges of the invisibility cloak and pulled it away from her.  
  
"Ron," she said quietly stepping towards him, "Ginny...Ginny's missing."  
  
"What?" he cried blinking furiously.  
  
She could see his right hand gripping his wand tightly.  
  
"Ron, she could be fine, we are going to go look for her," Hermione whispered.  
  
"Vo..Vol..de...mort?" Ron asked hoarsely.  
  
Hermione's teary eyes answered his question silently. 


	16. Anymore Chpt 15 Continued

Ron had hidden Hermione and himself underneath the invisibility cloak within seconds. He could not understand what drew Tom Riddle – Voldemort to his sister. He could hear Harry breathing heavily as they descended the stairs. Could Harry be the reason? He wasn't dangerous – danger came to him. Ron couldn't blame everything on Harry, although he vaguely wondered what drove Voldemort to want him dead. He'd heard the reasoning before. Harry, the heir of Slytherin – which he knew wasn't true. Tom Riddle was, and unless Voldemort was Harry's father, Harry couldn't be less like the heir. Harry the "Dark wizard in hiding" was another popular myth that had commenced with Hannah Abbot. But Ron had thought of another possibility which Hermione had scoffed at. Perhaps Harry was the heir of Gryffindor. He could almost see Hermione's response ("Oh please Ron, if Harry were the heir of Gryffindor don't you think we would have known?"). It was true that Hermione HAD read everything there was to read about Harry, but there were a lot of things they didn't know. When they had hastily (and rudely as she said) awoken the Fat Lady, she glared at them but reluctantly opened, letting them out into the castle.  
  
"Now," hissed Hermione, "We have to think about when we last saw Ginny, where was she?"  
  
"I last saw her in Hogsmede, with Dean, walking past Zonko's," Ron whispered.  
  
"Me to," Hermione agreed.  
  
They both looked expectantly at Harry. He could feel their gaze against the back of his neck as they walked on. He had already thought of when he'd last seen her. He'd already seen her crushing underneath his lies. He'd already regretted everything that he'd said and put her through. Her image resided in his mind. It was more numbing than the prospect of Voldemort. Just put one foot in front of the other, he reminded himself.  
  
"I saw her..." he whispered, "I saw her in Hogsmede."  
  
"Okay," Hermione repeated, "So we know she was in Hogsmede,"  
  
"In the Three Broomsticks, with him," Harry finished.  
  
"With V..voldemort?" Ron asked loudly.  
  
"With Dean Thomas," Harry whispered, not blinking, just walking.  
  
It was all he could do.  
  
"So she could be anywhere, obviously she came back to the castle, I mean if not Dean would be frantic, we would –"  
  
"They broke up," Harry felt the words roll off his lips, feeling as though he hadn't said anything at all.  
  
There was no emotion in his voice as he spoke. It sent shivers up Hermione's spine.  
  
"You saw them break up?" Hermione asked, shocked.  
  
"She told me, when..." Harry stopped.  
  
He felt Ron and Hermione both collide into him. Why hadn't he thought of it before? How could he have been so stupid? He threw the invisibility cloak off of himself.  
  
"Harry!" Ron protested, "Where are you going?"  
  
"Harry," Hermione shrieked, "Come back, it's dangerous. He could be anywhere!"  
  
Harry ignored them, as he broke into a run down the dark corridors.  
  
"Harry!" he heard them yell, and then he heard their footsteps following him.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"Has he gone mad?"  
  
But Harry hadn't gone mad; he knew exactly where he was going. He was going where he knew she'd be.  
  
He ran as fast as he could down the first three flights of stairs, and paused as the fourth one decided to switch to a new landing. Fate was on his side. He didn't want Hermione or Ron to follow them, and he realized they were still stuck on the second staircase, which was now shifting towards the great hall.  
  
"Harry!" They called, their voices were frantic, but he knew they'd understand.  
  
He ran on, and after descending the seventh stair case Harry found himself in the entrance hall. He pushed the doors open with both hands, and found himself back in the rain. He could hear the dying leaves rustling in the strong wind. Although it wasn't raining quite as hard as before, the rain and wind were both chilling. He ran down the marble steps only tripping once. The fields were soaked with the falling rain, and Harry slid across the slick grass. He was heading straight for the quidditch pitch, knowing she'd be there, crying for him. He knew she wouldn't be crying for very long. This prospect only made him run faster.  
  
"Ginny!" he called into the wind.  
  
He knew she wouldn't be able to hear him, but just saying her name made him feel that much better. He threw the doors to the Gryffindor change room open and rushed in, his hair and robes dripping with water and his trainers leaving mud stains on the floor. He knew before the night was over that Filch would have his head, but none of that mattered.  
  
He found her in the corner of the room, her robes still dark with dampness, her hair drying on her sleeves. She had her beautiful eyes closed, her head was resting on her knees and he smiled watching as she breathed slowly.  
  
He walked lightly towards her, falling to his knees.  
  
"Oh Ginny," he whispered, touching her hair lightly, feeling his chest swell with relief.  
  
He wanted to laugh and cry and howl and scream at the same time. She was here, she was alive, and she was perfect. There was no Voldemort, and he wondered vaguely if this was just a nightmare with a good ending. He could feel his heart hammering inside of his chest, and he hopped the sound wouldn't wake her up.  
  
He could feel his chest swelling, and he swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat with shame. He knew it was only a matter of time before Ron and Hermione burst in, breathless and wet. He closed his eyes, this was it. He had come to face the only thing he was afraid of. Fear. The fear of loving her; but he'd realized that even if she didn't know, even if she wasn't his he would still love her. He would always love Ginny Weasley. He reached out to touch her with shaking hands.  
  
She moaned softly, shifting her head. He watched as her eyes slowly blinked open in to narrow slits before bursting open with surprise.  
  
"Harry," she cried, "What are you doing here? What time is it?"  
  
"Oh Ginny," he sighed.  
  
He stared into her eyes, saddened as he watched fresh tears pool in them.  
  
"What are you doing here? Please leave me alone." She said, emotionless.  
  
"Ginny," he smiled, reaching up at touching the tiny tears that had leaked out of her eyes, "I am so sorry."  
  
"Sorry?" Ginny asked, pulling away from his touch, "You are sorry?"  
  
Harry winced.  
  
"Do you have any idea Harry? Any idea at all, what it's like to live your life going out with boy after boy looking for someone to fill the spot in your heart that is meant for somebody else?" Ginny cried, all of her tears welling over, "What it's like to watch the one you love, and long for them with all your heart, come so close to having them, but then having to turn away? Do you know what that's like?"  
  
"Yes Ginny, I do." Harry whispered.  
  
"How could you possibly understand?"  
  
"Ginny, I've been so afraid."  
  
"Afraid?"  
  
"Yes," he sighed.  
  
"Of what Harry?" She demanded.  
  
"Ginny..."  
  
"WHAT?" she cried, frustrated.  
  
"Ginny, I am afraid," he whispered, "of loving you."  
  
"You...you're..." she sputtered.  
  
"I couldn't admit to myself that I loved you, because I was so afraid that as soon as I did, Voldemort would come for you, come and steal you from me, as he has stolen everything else."  
  
"Harry," she whispered.  
  
"But you are nothing like Sirius, or Cedric, or even my parents," Harry whispered, touching her face softly, "You are the only thing that keeps me going, keeps me believing in myself. You're the reason I breathe, I cannot go on with out you, and you are everything to me."  
  
He watched as her lower lip began trembling.  
  
"But no matter how many times I say I don't love you to myself, or try to push you away, you seem to be the only thing that I can think of, and feel. Ginny, pretending I don't love you is too hard. You are the reason I am so strong Gin, but you make me so weak," Harry explained, taking large deep breathes, "Look, you take my breath away, by just sitting there, I've been going insane lately watching you with Dean, and battling with my self, trying to be noble and not love you. I realized, that even if I didn't tell you I love you, and even if weren't together He would still know because Ginny, I can't tell my heart what to do, and it's screaming at me to kiss you."  
  
He broke off, breathing heavily, leaning against her as she pushed herself against the wall. He felt her fingers touch his face as she stared at him with disbelieving eyes.  
  
"Believe me Gin, feel my heart," he whispered taking her hand in his and moving to his throat  
  
She smiled as she felt his pulse raising.  
  
"I believe you," She told him.  
  
He licked his lips as she closed her eyes.  
  
"Oh Ginny," he whispered lowering his mouth closer to hers, "I love you,"  
  
When their mouths finally did meet, Harry felt his chest burst with happiness. He felt the guilty weight lift off of his shoulders as she ran her fingers through his wet hair. He could feel her soft lips brushing against his, the moan fighting to escape the back of her throat. He could feel his own fingers exploring her cheeks and neck. She reached around to the back of his head and pulled him in closer. He opened his eyes in surprise when she parted her lips and invited him into a deeper kiss, her tongue running across his lips. He gave into her completely and the only thing he thought about from that point on was the feeling that had finally replaced his numbness.  
  
I can't hide the way I feel about you anymore  
  
I can't hold the hurt inside, keep the pain out of my eyes anymore  
  
My tears no longer waiting...my resistance ain't that strong  
  
My mind keeps recreating a life with you alone  
  
And I'm tired of pretending that I don't love you anymore  
  
Let me make one last appeal to show you how I feel about you  
  
Cause there's no one else I swear, holds a candle, anywhere, next to you  
  
My heart can't take the beating of not having you to hold  
  
A small voice keeps repeating deep inside my soul...  
  
It says I can't keep pretending that I don't love you anymore  
  
I've got to take the chance or let it pass by  
  
If I expect to get on with my life  
  
With my life...  
  
And I can't hide the way I feel about you anymore  
  
And I can't hold the hurt inside, keep the pain out of my eyes anymore  
  
My tears no longer waiting  
  
Oh, my resistance ain't that strong  
  
Oh, my mind keeps recreating a love with you alone  
  
And I'm tired of pretending I don't love you anymore... 


	17. The Voice

Between the first quidditch match of the season (Gryffindor Vs. Hufflepuff) and the newest romance, the Gryffindors had a lot to talk about over the next week. Parvati Patil was telling everyone who would listen that Ginny and Harry were the "Dark Couple". She had only begun telling a second year that both Ginny and Harry had encountered the Dark Lord, when Hermione came up behind her and glared at her. The glare, which Ron so loathed and adored at the same time; He had to smile at Hermione's power. She was the only one he knew who could shut Parvati up. He knew what it was that was bothering Hermione, for Padma had been nailing him non-stop all week with questions about Ginny and Harry. He watched as Hermione caught his smile and scowled at him before retreating to her favourite armchair, a large leather bound book tucked under her arm. He supposed this meant they still weren't talking. The last time she'd said a word to him had been when they'd been looking for Ginny but he supposed that was just an exception the rule. He'd had to admit, Ginny had been taking up most of Harry's time in between class, and their conversations at breakfast, lunch and supper were just too much for him to handle. As Ron sat at his table, struggling to finish his homework in time for Quidditch practice, and staring at Hermione's long curls he realized that he missed her.

"I can't believe you just handed Ginny over to him on a silver platter," Seamus muttered pulling on his robes.

"She was in love with him from the beginning," Dean muttered as he tightened his shin pads, "I mean who doesn't love the great Harry Potter,"

"Well no wonder why he is the star of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and he's one of the only reasons why we ever beat Slytherin." Michael Corner said closing his locker door with a bang.

"He is a brilliant wizard; I mean you should see the things he can do with his wand," Seamus reminded him, "With power and an infamous name he must be pretty impressive,"

"And I read in the Quibbler that his godfather was Sirius Black, you know the escaped prisoner?" Michael piped up.

"Seriously? I thought he died," Seamus asked.

"He did, and word has it that now Harry not only has his parents fortune, but the Black family fortune as well."

"Merlin's beard!" Seamus cried, his voice echoing in the empty changeroom, "That's a lot of gold."

"Well I guess we don't have to wonder why Gin's with him then do we?" Dean said slyly, "I'm sure he pays a pretty penny."

With that the three boys laughed. They stopped abruptly however, when they heard the door swing open.

"Look Ron," Harry was saying, "Why don't you just tell her, it made things so much easier for me,"

"If I hear one more thing about you and my sister I think I am going to be sick," Ron muttered, coming around the corner of the tiled walls to face his three other team mates.

"Hi," Harry said brightly to all of them.

"Mon Capitan" Michael muttered as Harry walked by.

He was heading for the double doors that lead to the quidditch pitch. He was only gone for a few moments before he came back in declaring that the weather and pitch looked perfect for and easy game against Hufflepuff. Though nobody their knew, Harry sounded an awful lot like his old captain, Oliver Wood. The four other boys nodded nonchalantly, each slumped against his locker.

"So what's Weasley's problem?" Seamus asked, watching Dean turn his back to Harry.

"Well, you know..." Harry sighed, opening his own locker.

"Again? Merlin you guys fight like a married couple, what did you do this time?" Michael asked throwing a dirty towel in Ron's direction.

"I embarrassed her in front of Vicky," Ron told the guys batting his eyelashes.

"Oh bloody hell Ron," Dean cried, "You mean to tell me that the hottest girl in school is sitting in the bleachers, wearing your robes and scarf and screaming your name while jumping up and down, and all that you can think about is some fight with Hermione?"

Ron didn't reply.

"Come on guys, it's time," Harry said pulling Ron up with one hand and grabbing his broom with the other.

Gryffindor won the match as easily as it could be achieved. Of course the house had to throw a party afterward. Hermione had just come downstairs from returning her scarf and hat to her dorm, and already Harry had returned from Hogsmede with candy and Butterbeer for all. Harry caught her attention for a few seconds and grinned at her as a group of third years talked in wonderment over how Harry had obtained all of the candy. She knew of course that he had used the path hidden under the One-eyed witch's hump. She frowned slightly at him.

"Oh come on Hermione," Harry said edging over to her, "Have a butter beer,"

She took the butter beer out of his hand, and looked stealthily around,

"Harry, you know you shouldn't be heading into Hogsmede."

Harry frowned, "Hermione,"

"Don't you Hermione me..." She began, but soon broke out into a smile.

Ginny approached them linking her arm in Harry's proudly.

"Do you mind if I steal this remarkably handsome boy away from you Hermione?"

"No, no go right ahead," Hermione laughed, "If you need me I will be in the library."

Hermione idled the whole way to the library, her mind set on replaying the quidditch game in her mind. She wasn't quite sure why she had found today's match so incredibly interesting, for the most part she often found games boring. Today's had been different. Ron had been exceptionally confident and she'd used focused the dial on her omniculars to his face. She sighed remembering the look of concentration, the thrill that was dripping off of his face. She'd seen that look before. Hermione paused, bathing in her thoughts as she stood before the library's heavy oak doors. The question she must ask was where exactly was it that she had seen that look? As she passed through the doors to the empty library she finally realized where she'd seen the look. He'd worn the same look the night they walked out to the creek and talked about Sirius...the night she'd come so close to admitting how she felt, the night that she'd ruined any chance between them.

She chose a table far from the doors in the dusty back corner of the library. She sat there for a long time, her parchment remaining blank. She was not quite sure why she had come to the library. She let out a sigh and stood, walking to the window. Night was falling rapidly and the first stars began to shine in the distance.

"Hermione!"

She turned around, surprised to hear her name. Nobody, it seemed was around. Her eyes narrowed. Was she hearing things?

"Hermione!" it called again.

She'd heard this voice before. It was a deep feminine voice. A voice that could send shiver's down your spine the very moment it reached your ears. Paranoia overtook Hermione, and she began looking past shelves and over her shoulder for somebody standing near by. The thing was she couldn't quite tell what direction the voice was coming from.

"Hermione..." it was but a whisper this time.

Hermione looked straight up into the rafters.

"Oh!" she cried out as a pair of hands grasped her arms.

"Hermione are you alright?"

It was Neville. She sighed, her tense body relaxing at the sight of his pale face.

"Yes, yes I m fine," she muttered stepping away from him and sitting back down.

"You looked frightened, is there something up there?" Neville asked looking up at the rafters himself.

"No, no – I am fine."

"So why aren't you in the common room?" he asked pulling a chair beside her and sitting down.

"I had some homework to do," she explained, pulling hastily at the blank parchment and putting it back inside her bag.

"Oh," he said leaning forward and staring into her eyes.

Did he not believe her? Had he noticed the blank parchment?

"Yea, but I just finished," she said quickly glancing at her watch, "It's getting late, I should be heading back to my dorm."

She got up, gathering her books. She was reaching for the last one when Neville reached out and grasped her hand.

"Hermione, wait I need to talk to you."

"What is it?" She asked pulling her hand from his and collecting the last book.

"Do you love Viktor Krum?" he asked looking away from her.

"I am not sure, why?" she answered uncertainly.

"Well listen, I've heard some awful things about him...having other girlfriends."

She stared down at him. He shifted uncomfortably in her gaze. She was fighting the urge to laugh or scream. Ron was very clever - Sending Neville to ask questions for him. God he was so stupid sometimes.

"Neville," Hermione sighed, "Did Ron put you up to this?"

"No."

"Well then why would you ask me a question like that?" she asked, her temper rising.

"Because I wanted to make sure that you know what's going on."

"Neville those are rumours, I can assure you that I am Viktor's only girlfriend and I care about him,"

Neville looked back at her, his eyes glossed over.

"As long as you are sure..."

"I am positive." Hermione said firmly, "You can tell Ron that to."

"Why can't you tell him yourself?"

"We're not speaking."

Monday of the next week was cold and wet. The long corridors were damp and Hermione shivered as she turned a corner. She had just seen the boys off after Defence Against the Dark Arts, which had gone well. Tonks had taught them a knew charm that could help them break through walls and other barriers. She'd been paired with him. She hated the awkward tension that always rested between them, but she knew that there was nothing she could do. Although charms were never his strong point, Ron had picked up on it very well. Hermione had be assigned extra homework since her own charm was lacking, shall we say flair. Ron had gloated about it for the rest of the class. The boy's had gone to find their girlfriends for the spare minutes between class well she was left to find her own way to Arithmancy.

She was walking down the hall slowly when she saw Ron straight ahead walking hand in hand with Padma. Although she wanted to look the other way it was all she could do to stop from staring at him. They locked eyes as they came closer to one another. Even after he had past her Hermione turned to watch him. She felt sick to her stomach. How could he parade around with Padma like that? Suddenly Hermione bumped into something rather hard and took a topple to the floor. When she opened her eyes she saw Draco Malfoy sitting directly across from her scowling.

"Watch where you are going next time Mudblood," Draco hissed.

"Oh shut it Malfoy," Hermione responded irritably standing and picking up her books.

"Maybe you should stop staring at your lover."

"Clearly he is not my lover Malfoy."

"I suppose you're right, if he were your lover he wouldn't be kissing Padma right now,"

"What?" Hermione asked, turning around quickly, following Draco's gaze.

The hallway was empty. Draco's laugh rang out.

"Aw don't tell me the little Mudblood is in love..." he cooed.

"Get stuffed."

"Pity."

She was just about to retaliate when he reached out and grasped her wrists forcefully.

He twisted her arm as she let out a gasp and threw her against the wall. He leaned towards her until all his body weight pressed her tightly to the cold stones. She turned her head to the side, clamping her eyes shut as his face neared hers. She could feel her heartbeat pounding against her rib cage savagely.

"Are you afraid Hermione?" he hissed.

"No,"

"You should be."

She could feel his breath against her cheeks.

"Do you know what I am?" he asked.

She did not respond.

"Answer me!" he cried his grip tightening around her small wrists.

Tears filled her eyes. She knew he was referring to the burning tattoo on his arm. She knew he wanted her to say he was a death-eater.

"Hermione..."

She gasped, her eyes flying open. It was that voice again. That voice from the library.

"Hermione."

It was coming from just down the dark hall. She turned her head quickly. Perhaps it was her guardian angel.

"Hermione..."

It was just above her. She looked up. Fingers grasped her cheeks, pushing hard into the bone. Draco moved her face so she was looking at him again.

"She's calling you isn't she?" he asked with a grin.

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"You hear her don't you?"

"Who is it?" Hermione whimpered.

Draco's laugh rang out. He stopped abruptly, letting go of Hermione wrists, crying out in agony. What had happened? He slouched against the wall, and Hermione looked for any signs of a perpetrator. Draco reached for his cloak and drew up it's sleeve. The skull was burning red. Draco breathed heavily with the pain and looked up at her with dark eyes. She stared at him for only a few more seconds before she ran as fast as she could. She didn't know where she was going, but it was as far away from him as she could possibly get. Hermione ran to escape the fear he had installed in her, but the voice she had heard was inescapable.


End file.
